


Am I still Nathan Petrelli?

by Gamebird



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamebird/pseuds/Gamebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately following "Brother's Keeper" in Season 4, Sythan struggles with his identity, his love for Peter and the continuing animosity of his enemies.</p><p>Warnings: incest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately following "Brother's Keeper" and spoilers through that entire episode.

Set immediately following "Brother's Keeper" and spoilers through that entire episode.

Peter came out and leaned against the door to the balcony. "Nathan this uh… this idea, this thought, that you're uh…"

"Sylar?" Nathan said bitterly into the pause.

Pete exhaled roughly. "Yeah."

Nathan sat at the small table, hands in front of him, looking slumped and defeated. "Change a voice, change a face. Still him underneath."

Peter ran his hand over his face. What did all of this mean? It was ridiculous and his first instinct remained his strongest: that was Nathan, not Sylar, and any idiocy to the contrary was just lies. It was hardest to hear it coming from Nathan himself.

Nathan turned his hands over. "These hands have killed dozens of people, Pete. Friends of ours. Whoever Nathan Petrelli was is gone now. Just some random thoughts in a mass murderer's head." His expression clouded with self-loathing.

Peter shook himself. This was ridiculous! "K, look, assuming that I believe any of that…" Pete shrugged, but his voice became uneven and heavy with emotion as his heart hiccupped at the possibility that Nathan was really dead. He grasped at a straw. "What would it matter? I mean, didn't Matt say that he **forced** Sylar out?"

Nathan smirked darkly at him. "You really think Matt could purge every sick thought from that head?" Nathan looked up and then down. "To the rest of the world, I'm Nathan Petrelli, Pete, but every time you look at me," Nathan looked at Peter and narrowed his eyes slightly, "the way you're lookin' at me right now, you're gonna see Sylar."

Peter looked straight at Nathan with his eyes a bit too wide, expression neutral.

Nathan said, "Tell me I'm wrong." Peter didn't say anything, only moving his head a little. "Tell me I'm wrong, Pete," Nathan said softly.

After a painfully long pause, Peter walked to the other man. What was this person in front of him? Nathan? Sylar? Something else, some unwholesome, power-spawned combination? He didn't know, but he kneeled next to what his heart said was his brother, despite the confusion of his brain. "Nathan… right now, I see my brother. I see Nathan Petrelli, my big brother, who's always been there for me." Pete voice caught a little. "Maybe tomorrow I'll see someone else." Pete glanced away and exhaled, then looked back at Nathan, who was watching him curiously, anguished. "But whoever else that is, I'm **always** going to see my brother in you." Pete looked down at Nathan's hands and reached out to take one in his. "Mom said… that Sylar was my brother. I know… it wasn't true then. But maybe this is what she _saw_. I've seen Sylar… Gabriel… be a good man. So even if…" Pete shook his head, "if you're not always Nathan…" Pete cocked his head to one side and looked away, his eyes tearing as his heart seemed to finally realize his brother, or at least a part of him, was gone.

Nathan turned and hugged Peter to him, gently at first and then more tightly, as if he was hanging onto the most important thing in the world. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I am **so** sorry." It was Nathan's voice, but with Sylar's inflection and intonation. Peter didn't miss the difference, but he didn't know what to do about it. What did it mean? The man even **smelled** like Nathan. The younger brother breathed unevenly, but he didn't sob. Maybe Nathan wasn't dead after all. He hugged Nathan back for a while and then stood, wiped his eyes and paced the balcony, trying to get his thoughts in order.

Nathan and Sylar watched him, heart in their shared throat. Nathan wanted to be the brother Peter wanted. He didn't want to hurt him by being Sylar. Sylar realized he'd done something awful and he'd done something wonderful. There was a chance, a tiny chance that he could keep the life his body had been living for the last two months. He'd always wanted to be special, but as Sylar, all he was, when it came down to it, was a killer. As Nathan, he was powerful and special and more importantly, he was special **to** people. Strangers knew and respected his name and he had a family who loved him. Loved him so much that they'd even accept an unstable psycho killer like himself if he just wore Nathan's face and didn't challenge their fantasy that he might **be** Nathan. If there was any chance he could keep that for himself… it would make life worth living.

"Nathan… listen, this is a lot to process." Peter gestured inside. "Let's get some sleep. We'll meet mom tomorrow and we'll deal with this… as a family."

Nathan blinked at him and nodded. Whatever Peter wanted - and meeting his mother was guaranteed to be annoying, but it had to be done and better sooner than later. Sylar snarled and frowned inside. He was losing Peter. He had to be. There was no point to this. He might as well end it. "Fine," he muttered and stalked inside. Peter frowned at the body language and followed him in. Halfway across the room, Nathan turned and froze, realizing Peter hadn't left. For the second time that day, he asked, "What are you doin?" This time it was Peter's turn to blink in surprise. "I was just going to surf the couch. Is that alright?" Nathan's posture, which had been tense and closed off, relaxed suddenly. He looked between the couch and Peter. "Yeah… that's great… I thought, I thought you were leaving." _Leaving me,_ Sylar thought.

"No." Peter spoke slowly and carefully, realizing that Nathan wasn't understanding him as intuitively as his old brother had. "I just said that we'll deal with this together. **Together**. Until… unless you don't want to. But even then, you're my brother. Tomorrow we'll talk to mom." He waited a beat. "Okay?"

Nathan nodded. "Alright. Whatever you want, Pete." He walked into his room and closed the door softly. He had to get away from Peter before he screwed things up worse than they already were. He ran his hands across his face. Who was he? He had to be Sylar. Sylar, wearing Nathan Petrelli's face. And although it made sense, it was impossible to integrate. A part of himself was Nathan, or at least wanted to be Nathan so badly that he couldn't see himself as fully Sylar anymore. He'd curse Matt Parkman for that if it wasn't giving him a connection to something he wanted more badly than powers. Now he was not much better than when he'd been stuck in Parkman's head, but instead of being stuck in Parkman's, he was stuck in Nathan's and even Nathan was convinced that he, Nathan, was Sylar. He just couldn't or wouldn't give up his identity as Peter's brother to take up the mantle of being a serial killer. It was wrong. It was the wrong thing to do. It would hurt Peter too much. It would hurt **himself** too much. He didn't **want** to be Sylar! And so Sylar was a prisoner, or at least a bystander again, but this time in his own mind. He laid on the bed and listened to the music of his watch ticking away, almost, but not perfectly, synchronized with Peter's watch.

Neither of them slept much. They were both quiet and distant the next morning. Even though (and perhaps because) they'd said hardly a word to each other, Peter stopped Nathan at the door and hugged him awkwardly. When Nathan didn't hug him back, he cut it short and they headed out to the Petrelli residence.

Angela had not expected them. She chided them for not calling first and acted like everything was very normal between them. She hurried around with the servant to get brunch ready, for neither of them had felt like eating earlier. Sylar stood at the back of the room and fumed. This was the woman who had done… this thing to him. He wasn't sure whether to thank her or to kill her, but in any case he was angry at her presumption for doing it in the first place. Neither Nathan nor Sylar liked to be manipulated. With his mother, Nathan largely expected it, and while he resented it, that was as far as it went. Sylar was enraged. No one treated him like that and lived. So he glowered at her whenever she came into his line of sight.

Angela caught the hint, but she mistook the cause. She gave Peter a pointed look and all he said was, "He's not feeling like himself today." "Mm-hmm?" Angela answered. Then Peter volunteered to help with setting out the dishes, so she didn't get a chance to find out what he meant. Nathan himself had been saying the same thing to her for nearly two weeks. As Nathan and Peter seated themselves, Angela served Peter and then Nathan. She smiled thinly at him and said, "Well Nathan, how was your vacation?"

"Oh, it was just great!" He answered snidely, "I did just what you said. Found a fast woman with a young car and had a blast." He paused a moment, touching the tines of his fork to his plate. "Or, maybe it was the other way around. My memory hasn't been the best recently." It was almost not Nathan's voice at all. The inflection, the word choice, the tone was all Sylar. Angela blanched. Peter, eyes wide, cleared his throat. "Um, uh, this is a great salad, mom. Thanks for having us on such short notice."

Angela took a half step back from Nathan's side and said, "Of course, Peter. A mother should always take care of her sons."

Nathan put down his fork and turned to look directly at her, snarling, "Like you took care of me?" Angela looked at him, shocked. Nathan continued, still in Sylar's voice. "I'm dead." He jerked his head at Peter. "He knows it. You know it."

Peter tried to interrupt, "Nathan…" But Nathan turned to him and said levelly, "Guess again." He wasn't Nathan. He couldn't be Nathan. Not for what he was about to do to Angela Petrelli. What she deserved.

Angela breathed, "Nathan, oh god!" She put her hand over the bread knife as she stood next to Nathan's seat at the table. Sylar saw the motion and put his hand on the knife as well and looked up at Angela. "Sylar's in there with you, isn't he?" she gasped. Peter got up and slowly moved behind his mother, glancing at the knife that neither of them had quite grasped.

Almost yelling, Nathan said, "You put him there!"

"This wasn't supposed to happen…" she faltered. Peter took her shoulder with one hand and with the other he pulled out her chair. She sank into it heavily as Sylar stood up in front of her, intending to end her, but hesitating because he wasn't sure how to get Peter out of the way for long enough to do the deed to his satisfaction. Before he could come to a decision, Angela buried her face in her hands and sobbed, "I loved Nathan! I just… I couldn't see him gone. I couldn't!" Sylar hesitated, remembering his mother crying and fearing him, not accepting him. Whatever Angela had done, she had accepted her son for what he was. Nathan exploited the moment and fought with Sylar for control. The man stood stock still for the moment, fingers twitching slightly.

Peter knelt next to his mother like he'd knelt next to Nathan the night before. He held her hand and looked up at Nathan without judgment. He moved his head, pointing with his chin and eyes at the other side of their mother. Sylar blinked at him, unbelieving, but Nathan did as Peter suggested and knelt awkwardly on the other side. He didn't touch her. He didn't trust her. More importantly, he didn't trust himself. Sylar rebelled at being on his knees for her sake. Nathan told him to stuff it.

Peter stroked his mother's hand. "He knows. We went to Matt Parkman and he told us everything. But…" As he hesitated, Angela looked up at him with a tear-stained face. "It doesn't have to change anything." She blinked at him in confusion and looked at Nathan, who was kneeling silently next to her, staring fixedly at her knee. He wanted to put his hand on it and comfort her, but Sylar still wanted to kill her.

"It… it doesn't? But he's…"

"No, no." Peter cut her off. "He's Nathan. He's still Nathan. That's still Nathan in there."

Her voice hardening, she snapped, "Sylar is in there too!" Nathan looked up at both of them with a sullen, sour expression. Sylar didn't like the direction this was taking. Maybe he should just kill her quickly? Nathan struggled to remain in control.

Peter agreed with her to the surprise of both, "Yes, yes he is. But so's Nathan. Are you going to kill **Nathan**? Because you're going to have to, if you can't accept this. Anything you do to Sylar, you're doing to Nathan." He looked past his mother and locked eyes with Nathan. "That man is my brother." He looked back to Angela. "You're our mother. He's kneeling next to you. Look at him!" He looked back at her intensely and after a long pause, she turned her eyes to Nathan's. Peter held his breath. He hadn't missed any of the murderous looks Nathan had given her earlier and his current expression wasn't much of an improvement. But they **had** to reconcile. They were family, one way or another.

Angela looked into her son's face and tried to see Sylar there. She tried to see a stranger, a murderer, someone she hated and who hated her. But all she could see was the man she'd raised, the boy she'd loved, the babe she'd cradled. Nathan looked at her face and cold-cocked Sylar before he could twitch and ruin this. He swallowed nervously, looking back at his mother. "Ma?" he said with a very small voice. Would she still take him with this taint in him?

"Oh, Nathan!" She started sobbing all over again and threw her arms around him. Peter started breathing again and patted her on the back. It was going to be okay. He knew it. It was all going to be okay.


	2. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As I said in the revised story description, the end of this wanders into slash territory with undertones of past-Petrellicest. Nothing graphic or explicit happens here. I didn't intend, originally, to publish this, but positive reviews have prompted me. I don't expect to have a third chapter. The reviews are lovely. Thank you so much.

A/N: As I said in the revised story description, the end of this wanders into slash territory with undertones of past-Petrellicest. Nothing graphic or explicit happens here. I didn't intend, originally, to publish this, but positive reviews have prompted me. I don't expect to have a third chapter. The reviews are lovely. Thank you so much.

To be honest, Sylar didn't do much that afternoon. He'd told Peter and Angela he had some things to take care of at the office, but actually he spent nearly all his time lounging in his chair, feet on the desk and hands behind his head, gloating over the success of being Nathan Petrelli. He was rich and he didn't even have to steal it. He was powerful and he didn't even have to use his powers. He was famous and it wasn't even for killing people. He had a mother again, who loved him (or at least loved who he looked like, which was good enough). He had a brother willing to stand beside him no matter what he looked like, which was fantastic - almost unbelievable. The loyalty Peter had to him was astonishing. Sylar whiled away the day thinking about how wonderfully things were going.

The only mar to it was the occasional nagging from Nathan that he was a senator and shouldn't be lollygagging around so much, wasting the taxpayer's money, but even that wasn't very loud. Even quieter was the murmur that he still didn't have the full package - some sort of Petrelli benefit that Nathan's personality was resisting telling him about. It was important, he could feel that, but right now things were going so great Sylar didn't feel a need to torture himself about it. He'd had enough of fighting with Parkman. It was exhausting and frustrating and it had almost killed him. Since he'd decided he needed Nathan to make this work, he was hoping to achieve a less antagonistic relationship with the other occupant of his brain.

He didn't realize how quiet it had gotten until a distant door unlocked and opened. Sylar didn't need to look at the clock. He knew it was 5 past 6. He recalled that Peter had said he'd bring by dinner around 6, saying something about helping make sure Nathan didn't lose too many arguments. After brunch, Nathan had told him that some of his long silences were him and Sylar arguing about things.

He put his feet on the floor and put on his best Nathan face, intent on waiting for Peter to come to him. Nathan gave him a nudge and then a second one when he didn't respond. _Oh, all right._ Sylar let Nathan's personality take the reins. It wasn't that important and Nathan knew how to handle his little brother a lot better than Sylar did. Nathan hopped up and went to the mini-fridge, getting out a bottle of water and a beer. He walked into the hall at about the same time Peter did on the opposite end. Peter didn't hesitate, but he lowered his head a little and didn't greet him automatically like he should have. Sylar realized he wouldn't have noticed that, but of course Nathan did. He stopped immediately and held up his hands with the drinks.

"I thought we'd eat in the conference room, not in my office."

Peter nodded and stopped next to the door to the conference room. "Something wrong with your office? We always eat there."

Nathan shook his head, still waiting for Peter to accept him. Peter's voice was very neutral and Nathan wasn't happy about that. "Nothing wrong. There's just too many memories there."

Peter cocked his head for a moment, not understanding. But Nathan was clearly waiting for something, so he opened the door to the conference room and said, "Come on. Let's eat while it's hot. I got kung pao chicken and cashew chicken. Take whichever you want."

Nathan nodded and followed him in, leaving the door open. Peter circled to the opposite side and sat down, pulling over one of the two sacks and setting about to chowing down without waiting to see which one Nathan wanted. _Rude!_ , Sylar thought. Nathan opened the other sack. Kung pao. He liked that better anyway. Of course, Peter probably knew that. He took a seat, they divided sauce packets and made small talk. Peter told him about different new places he'd eaten lately with friends of his at work - Emma and Hesam. Nathan talked about the single interesting call he'd taken today and his team's goals for him for the next month. He'd been hoping Peter would volunteer some advice about that, but Peter just nodded supportively.

Peter stood up to collect the trash, but Sylar waved him away. "No, sit down. Watch this." He gestured grandly and all the trash collected itself and floated neatly into the waste basket. He looked back at Peter, who was looking at him very intently. "What? Did I do something wrong?" The small talk must have relaxed him too much. He must have missed something.

Peter sat back down slowly. "No, it's fine. It's just that… Nathan never used his powers. Not unless it was really important." He shrugged. "It's okay though. Just different."

 _Just another reminder that you aren't me,_ Nathan told him. _Give him enough of those and you'll lose him._

Sylar nodded and looked pensively at the trash. It wasn't like he could undo it.

Peter leaned forward and went on. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about family stuff. I've been thinking about what you said after brunch. About Nathan's memories being like a book you haven't read and you need reminders to open it and read different pages?"

Sylar nodded.

"I need to go over some important stuff, so I know that you… well, that you know it. That's, uh, important." Peter looked a little exasperated. It wasn't coming out quite right, so he decided to move on quickly. "Okay, you know that Dad's dead, right?"

Sylar looked confused. "Of course. I killed him!"

"Um…" Peter blinked at him.

"Or, um, I'm sorry… Sylar killed him." He cursed himself mentally. Nathan laughed at him.

"Right. Well, mom killed him first."

"What?"

Peter lowered his head a little and tilted it. "You remember the funeral, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Okay. Well, he didn't die of natural causes. Mom killed him."

"What?"

Peter nodded. "She poisoned him and she thought it killed him. Apparently it didn't quite, but she didn't know that. She did it because he was going to sacrifice me at Kirby Plaza in some scheme that would end up with you being president." At Sylar's confused expression, he added, "Nathan. Nathan would become president if I blew up New York. But you… Nathan… flew me to safety. You almost died. I caught you and took you to a hospital."

"Nathan didn't know she killed his dad."

"No. I never told him. Back then I could read minds and I could be invisible. After the explosion, a lot of things didn't add up, so I went poking around. Nathan… you weren't doing too well and it was all over, so I didn't see a reason to share. Now," he waved his hand at Sylar, "Now it's different. After that, you decided to go public with our abilities and I shot you."

Sylar nodded. This incident Nathan remembered vividly and he remembered Peter explaining it to him quite a while later. "It was you from the future. Not… you-you."

Peter smiled. "Yeah. It was still sort of me. I know it's stupid, but I feel responsible. We healed you with Claire's blood and then Dad started causing problems, him and mom said y-, uh, said Sylar was our brother, that turned out to be a lie… for then… and Sylar killed dad. You and I, Nathan and I, kind of had a fight in the basement later. Nathan joined up with Danko to get rid of everyone with powers and you tried to put me in a prison camp. Then..." He paused and forged on before he lost his nerve. "Then Sylar had to be stopped and… Nathan and I tried. Mom and Matt did their thing. And here you are."

Sylar nodded. "Yeah, I knew most of that, but not all of it. And yeah, that's pretty important." He looked at Peter, who was looking at the table and tracing little circles with his fingertip. _Leave it,_ Nathan told him warningly. But Sylar didn't. "Was that everything?"

Peter glanced up at him and gave him a pained look. "No, it's not everything." He sighed, but he didn't elaborate.

 _Leave it!_ , Nathan repeated and made an attempt at taking control of him again. Sylar resisted, batting him away and leaned forward. "What else is there? Is it important?"

"It's important. It's why I came." He looked up and pushed back from the table a little. "What else do you remember? About _us_?"

 _Us?_ , Sylar thought, looking down at the table and trying to think. _What did that mean? Us? They'd done a lot together. They'd fought together. They'd fought each other. Maybe they teamed up… something do with sharing powers? But Nathan couldn't…_ Nathan was being awfully quiet. Sylar turned his mind to Nathan. _It's why he came here. Tell me, or I'll ask him to do it and you know he will._ Nathan looked up at Peter, who was watching him intently as if trying to divine the internal monologue. Sylar was right. Peter was going to tell him. Making Peter tell him would hurt Peter and worse, Sylar wouldn't understand the emotional impact of it. Sylar could tell Peter to shut up, but he couldn't make Nathan stop filling his head with memories.

 _Okay_ , Nathan said. It was a simple enough decision. He released the memories Sylar wanted. For a moment, Sylar was merely confused. Then, _WHAT? What the hell? He's… he's your_ _ **brother**_ _! You did… what? Why? That's disgusting! It's wrong! I don't even want to_ _ **be**_ _you!_ Peter leaned forward. His brother twitched several times and then his face rippled, like it was changing into someone else. _No,_ Nathan told Sylar, _You're not done yet. You don't understand._ Sylar's face settled back to Nathan. Sylar was too upset to resist him effectively, but he brought a hand up over his eyes to block the images. He didn't want to see, but they were still going on inside his head. Images and feelings. His stomach flip-flopped and his heart raced. They were some of the best feelings he'd ever had.

 _I don't need to understand! You don't do that with your… he loves you… that would be like me and my mother… it's disgusting!_ He shook his head.

Nathan persisted. _Look at what we did. Look! Look at what we had. You want to know why Peter will stick with you_ _ **no matter what**_ _, as long as he thinks you're me? That you might be me in_ _ **any way**_ _? What we had was the most beautiful and fulfilling thing I've ever had in my life. And if he's come here because he's willing to be with me again, then you'd be a bigger idiot than I think you are to turn him away. He's not reminding you of this on a lark, I'll guarantee it!_ Nathan's training as a politician made him an excellent read of people's motivations. Peter wasn't just being informational here. After a beat, Nathan pulled up other images: of Sylar's hands slick with blood, tasting it and enjoying the flavor; of him exploring himself after shapeshifting as a woman; the painful stream of images from the carnival house of mirrors of his many victims. _If you want_ _ **disgusting**_ _, I can show you_ _ **disgusting**_ _. What Peter and I had hurt no one and brought us closer. We were adults. We made our choices._ _ **I love him**_ _. He could love you too, if you let him._

Sylar and Nathan rubbed their shared head. "Yeah, I remember," he said heavily.

Peter cocked his head. "Listen, I know you're different. If that's not something you're into, that's okay with me. I just wanted… I wanted you to know. All the important stuff."

Nathan nodded slowly. "That's the most important one of all." Peter nodded to himself and stood. Sylar matched him and said, "You can't leave." He watched Peter's eyes measuring off the distance across the room and past him through the door, which he was standing in front of. Peter glanced off at the windows. They would be an easier escape route.

Sylar panicked a little. He tried to get Nathan to take over and handle things, but Nathan was nowhere to be found for some reason. He raised his hands like Nathan had earlier in the hallway and stepped away from the door, speaking softly but rapidly. "No, no. Peter… I didn't mean you couldn't leave if you wanted to. I meant… I don't **want** you to leave. Not like this. I wasn't trying to threaten you." He held his breath as Peter walked slowly around the table, expression closed off, and stopped to lean against the doorframe, facing him, arms crossed. Nathan and Sylar exhaled softly.

"Thank you. I've… I've never… I mean, I have the memories, and I know what we did… but…" Sylar floundered. He didn't know how to say it in a way he could live with, but he felt he had to do something because Nathan was right. This wasn't something he wanted to lose. Peter wasn't like Elle. He wasn't going to betray him. He didn't want him to be a bad person. He wanted him to be exactly who he was. He wasn't even pushing him to be Nathan, and Sylar had **killed** Nathan. Peter was more forgiving than a lot of saints! He wasn't even his brother anymore. At least, not really.

"It's okay," was all Peter said.

"No, it's not." Sylar looked at him and tried to figure out what he was supposed to say next. He'd never been as good with words as with actions, though. Peter was only a couple steps away, leaning against the frame in a false pose of relaxation. He could see his tension. Sylar swallowed and took two long strides to Peter, who didn't stiffen or flinch like Sylar had assumed he would. Sylar was a little disappointed, and stymied on how to continue with someone who didn't fear him.

All Peter did was raise his chin and tighten his crossed arms a little. Nathan was very close to him. A lot closer than was polite, but Peter didn't move. Sylar eyed Peter's face, meeting his brother's eyes uneasily. Nearly a minute passed with them just looking at each other. Both relaxed a little and Sylar was beginning to feel foolish being this close. He was on the verge of stepping away, because Peter wasn't helping him with his problem. Nathan finally rescued him. "Show me what you want me to do." _So it's that simple?_ , Sylar wondered. _Yeah, it is_ , Nathan rejoined. _Get some practice sleeping with someone who isn't terrified of you. Sheesh!_

Peter straightened against the doorframe and took Nathan's right hand. He lifted it and paused. "You've been with women, right?" A few affronted thoughts passed through Sylar's head, but he only nodded quickly. Peter smiled at the franticly fast nod. "Just making sure." He brought Nathan's hand to his cheek and moved it against himself. Sylar turned his hand and ran his fingertips across Peter's skin. Peter smiled a little and Nathan's stomach exploded in butterflies. "Oh!" he said. He'd never had that feeling with Elle. He'd felt triumphant, possessive, hopeful and yearning with her, lustful and dominant, but he'd never felt his stomach somersault like that. At nothing more than a half smile.

Peter leaned forward and tilted his head to kiss him. Sylar started to lean in as well but Peter stopped him, looking back and forth between his eyes. "Nathan?"

He hesitated and then answered, "Yes?"

"I love you." Peter closed the distance and kissed him, slowly at first and letting Nathan lead on the intensity. Nathan wrapped his right hand behind Peter's neck and held him to him. The kiss seemed to go on forever. Peter finally broke away, taking another long look into Nathan's eyes, trying to read who was in there. "I love you too, Pete."

Peter stepped forward the last few inches between them and pressed his body to Nathan's, putting his head on Nathan's shoulder and turning his face away. He caught Sylar's left hand hanging and moved it to the small of Peter's back, hugging them together. Nathan exhaled sharply and held Peter close, rocking slightly. Several minutes passed. For the first time, Nathan and Sylar were together, integrated into one personality, both of them wanting the same thing, brought together by strong emotion.

"What are we?" Peter asked after several more minutes had passed.

"We're lovers." Nathan told him.

"Mm." Peter rubbed his face across Nathan's suit jacket and smiled. "Is that what we are? I'd forgotten."


	3. Peter talks to Angela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: Okay, I was wrong. Here's chapter 3. No more slash, but lots of drama. In my mind, nothing much happened after the end of Chapter 2. There was an awkward parting and they went their respective ways. Sylar's not sure how far he wants to go with this, Nathan's not sure how far Peter wants to go and how he feels about that (after all, Peter and Nathan had had a pretty nasty break-up at least a year before - Nathan wonders why Peter want to make up** **now** **, with** _**Sylar** _ **?), and Peter isn't pushing. I had a whole subplot about the Haitian, but it didn't make it into this chapter, which is tracking the Petrelli family.**

**A/N: Okay, I was wrong. Here's chapter 3. No more slash, but lots of drama. In my mind, nothing much happened after the end of Chapter 2. There was an awkward parting and they went their respective ways. Sylar's not sure how far he wants to go with this, Nathan's not sure how far Peter wants to go and how he feels about that (after all, Peter and Nathan had had a pretty nasty break-up at least a year before - Nathan wonders why Peter want to make up**   
  
**now**   
  
**, with**   
_  
**Sylar**   
_   
**?), and Peter isn't pushing. I had a whole subplot about the Haitian, but it didn't make it into this chapter, which is tracking the Petrelli family.**

The next morning, Rene was waiting for Peter as he arrived at work.

"Hi there," Peter said guardedly.

Rene frowned deeply, looking like he was about to say something very unpleasant. "Your mother contacted me again. I told you the other day that the decision was yours. Have you made up your mind?"

Peter squared himself off across from Rene. The Haitian glanced at the confrontational body language, but he did not respond to it. He had learned that much could be deflected or defused by refusing to respond. He held himself still and narrowed his eyes slightly at Peter.

"Yeah, I've made up my mind. The answer's no. Not at all. Leave him alone."

The Haitian nodded and started to turn away.

"Wait. When did my mother contact you last?"

Rene turned his ebony face back towards Peter without moving the rest of his body. "Last night." Seeing the blaze of anger on Peter's face, the Haitian walked away. He was already deeply dissatisfied with the Petrelli family. No reason to make things worse. Perhaps this was a good time to go look up Bennet. When the Petrellis fought, the entire country seemed to quake. Bennet needed to know. This new generation of Petrellis seemed no better than the last. He did not like it.

Peter stalked into the locker room and slammed his door open. Hesam looked up sharply at him. He started to say something and realized that he'd never seen Peter this angry and he'd seen him in all kinds of crazy situations. He slipped outside without speaking. It was suddenly a really good time to go get a coffee. Emma snagged his sleeve on the way out and motioned inside. "Peter?"

"Yeah, Peter's in there, but I don't think you want to see him." Emma furrowed her brow and cracked open the door. She'd decide that for herself. Peter jerked his paramedic shirt on over his undershirt. She stepped inside. He slammed the door shut on his locker and turned, noticing her for the first time. His expression softened. He wasn't angry at _her_. Emma looked at the spray of colors, red and orange, from the sound. Why was it that only some things made colors? She was starting to think it had something to do with emotional intensity, because it wasn't just music… Her eyes passed where Peter was standing, fists on hips, looking at her with a lop-sided smile. He dropped his arms to his side and walked up to her. "Hey, how you doin?"

"I'm good. What's wrong?" She paired the words with signs, since Peter had been trying to learn sign language to talk to her better.

He smiled a bit more, realizing he'd forgotten to practice. "It's my mother." He rolled his eyes. "She makes me mad." He looked off to the side and then back at Emma. He hadn't forgotten to look directly at her when he talked, even though he didn't want to be looking at anyone right now. Not in this mood. "I thought we had something… settled," he signed the word 'done', although he knew it wasn't quite what he was looking for, "and now I find out she's going behind me to screw things up." 'Screw' was signed more strongly and crudely, because of course one of the first things he'd learned in sign was curse words.

Emma smiled compassionately and nodded. "I'm sorry," she signed without speaking. He nodded and glanced off to the side again. "I'm going to have to talk to her." She nodded again. "Listen," he said. "I've got to get to work. How about we catch lunch? I'll be calmer by then. I've got to think about this."

"Alright, Peter."

"Good evening to you too," Angela said blandly as her youngest son stormed in that night, tossing his satchel on the table and knocking over a set of salt and pepper shakers as he did. He walked right up to where she sat, invading her space.

"What are you playing at this time, Mom?"

She put her papers in order, sliding to the bottom of the stack the ones she didn't want Peter to see. She didn't look at him and continued her level, almost bored tone. "Whatever do you mean, Peter?" She looked up at his angry face and frowned. She spoke much more quietly for a moment, much more seriously. "I'm not 'playing'. I'm never 'playing'." She stood up next to him, very close.

"The Haitian came by today. He said you talked to him last night. _Last night!_ What was all that you said at brunch yesterday? Was it just a bunch of lies?"

She shook her head slightly. "Oh, no, Peter. I wouldn't lie to **him** , he'd hear it in an instant." Her eyes slid to the side. "But there are ways to say things that get past that particular ability."

Peter's voice softened slightly. "He's going to be fine. If you'd just leave him alone."

"Oh, Peter!" Angela turned and tried to put her hands on either side of his face. He jerked his head away from her and his face hardened. Angela stepped away from him, facing away. She didn't want to see Peter's face when she said what she had to say next.

"It's come to my attention that I must face the fact that Nathan's dead. That person is not Nathan, even if he looks like him and even acts like him… some of the time." She clasped her hands together and turned back towards Peter. "I made a terrible mistake, Peter."

 _I've heard that before_ , Peter thought. He threw himself down in an overstuffed chair and rubbed his forehead. _Why does she have to screw things up all the time? Nathan said she must have some sort of compulsion, probably linked to her power. Or maybe she's just a bad person._ Peter couldn't hold that thought for long though. His belief in the inherent goodness of people was too strong.

Angela went on, "There is only so long that we will be able to manipulate him." Peter furrowed his brow and looked up at her. He'd had a tingle and it seemed to have come from her, from what she'd said. It was wrong somehow. It was a lie.

"A man of his abilities is inherently unstable. You've seen it yourself, Peter. Too many abilities make a person… unstable." She looked down at him with pursed lips. Peter cocked his head at her. "What are you getting at?"

She sat down in the chair across from him and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Like at Kirby Plaza. You had too many abilities and it was destroying you. Your father," she made a face like she'd bitten a lemon, "did you a favor, really. When he took your abilities he _saved_ you. Before that, it was only a matter of time. As it's only a matter of time with Sylar. He can't be reformed, Peter. Everyone who's ever had that many abilities at once has self-destructed, one way or another."

Peter sat up. "Why-" He swallowed and looked away, then back at her out of the corner of his eyes. "You know what my ability is."

"Yes, I know Peter. Which is why I thought… at Kirby Plaza… at least you would be serving a higher good. Rather than… something terrible." Her eyes were distant, seeing something in the past or from one of her dreams.

He blinked at her. "You think I'm… safe now?" He tilted his head, listening, feeling for that tingle.

"Of course. You only have one ability at a time now. That's stable. There have even been empaths with two or three and they never made it very long, but it was long enough. No one really has forever anyway." She looked off into the distance again. Peter was glad she wasn't looking at him. He'd realized today that he didn't merely have Nathan's flight. When he'd touched Nathan, he'd picked up Sylar's entire complement of abilities, just like he had during the fight in the hotel. Anything that was going to happen to Sylar, was also going to happen to Peter. He looked at his hands. All he had to do, he knew, was touch someone else - lose Sylar's powers and go back to having one power. Be "ordinary", at least as such things passed among those with powers. But… he didn't want to be that. He breathed out slowly. Wasn't this the same megalomania he'd often criticized in Sylar? Wanting to be different? And what would happen to Sylar, to Nathan, who couldn't get rid of his powers so easily?

His mother had pulled out of her fugue and noticed that Peter was deep in thought. "What is it, Peter?"

Sylar wasn't the only one who had an uncanny ability to detect lies, but every Petrelli had long experience with 'ways to say things' to get past that ability. He said, "There's got to be some way to fix Sylar. It worked for me."

His mother shook her head. "Without Pinehearst, the formula is gone. And while I'm sure that someone will continue Suresh's research, it hasn't happened yet." Peter twitched. That was a tingle. "The Haitian can only suppress powers for a short time. It's ironic, really, that the only person I know of right now with the power to strip powers, is Sylar himself." Another tingle.

Peter huffed. He was frustrated by the lies, but he couldn't think of how to get her to tell the truth without revealing his own ability. If he did that, she'd watch her words even more carefully and he'd never get anywhere. "He has to kill people to strip powers. I'd rather not encourage that."

"No, he doesn't." Peter looked at her intently. There was no tingle. "Most people are untrained in what they are able to do. Sylar's no different. I have reason to believe he already knows how to take powers without opening the brain case." She tilted her head like her sons often did. "I'm not sure if he knows how to take them without killing though."

Peter inhaled sharply. This opened so many new possibilities. "You mean, he can take someone's powers, like Dad did?" She nodded. "Then… how does he… how would he do that?"

Angela gave him an odd look. "I don't think either one of us should do anything to enhance Sylar's abilities. The less he knows, the better. We're going to have to get rid of him. You're going to have to face that fact, Peter. I know that's hard for you. You've always been the sensitive one and that's a facet of your own ability. I don't know why you think he's worth saving, after what he's done to us. To _you_. But you have to understand, this can't go on."

Peter stood up. He hadn't gotten what he'd came for, but he'd never expected to talk his mother out of whatever insane course she had planned. Nathan had taught him over a year ago that it worked better to try to get her to talk about what she was going to do and then go thwart her indirectly. Peter hated that approach, but he had to admit that he'd never seen anyone other than Dad change Mom's mind once she made it up. He had a pretty good idea of how Dad had managed it. That wasn't a tactic Peter was willing to resort to, no matter what his mother was trying to do to Sylar.

"I'll think about it." He walked off, stopping at the table to pick up his satchel. He reached out to right the spice shakers and they popped up and shifted into position of their own accord. He hesitated and looked at his fingers. He hadn't meant to use telekinesis. It had just happened. His mind jumped to one of the many times when Nathan had urged him to be restrained in using his abilities, as if he was endangering himself somehow by using them too often. A cold feeling settled in his gut. What else had his brother known, that he wouldn't tell him? And would he tell him _now_? A glance back at his mother showed she was busy resorting her papers, moving the ones on the bottom of the stack back to the top. She hadn't noticed. He walked out, rubbing his fingers against each other uneasily.


	4. Bennet gets his orders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: I'm sure those reading so far will be pleased to know I have a rough draft of a story arc that will take about 6 or so more chapters to work out. Hopefully I'll have it done by the next episode, because whatever canon does will distract me from my own stories. I'm sure you'll notice that we've found a villain. Every good story needs at least one!**

**A/N: I'm sure those reading so far will be pleased to know I have a rough draft of a story arc that will take about 6 or so more chapters to work out. Hopefully I'll have it done by the next episode, because whatever canon does will distract me from my own stories. I'm sure you'll notice that we've found a villain. Every good story needs at least one!**

 **Oh, and poor Bennet. He's lied through his teeth for so long… He is just a wonderful character to write.**

 **If there's anyone out there who feels they can give me pointers on dialogue, then dish! I accept help!**

Noah Bennet had a polite, plastic expression on his face as he helped Angela into her seat. He scooted the chair in smoothly and circled to the other side of the table. She hardly glanced at the menu, but she moved it repeatedly, fidgeting with it.

"So. How are things?", he asked. "It's always nice to have lunch with the boss." He smiled a little wider.

She folded her hands in her lap to get them away from the menu and smiled at him. "I'm not your boss, Noah. This is just a friendly chat between friends."

Noah's smile became a grin, showing teeth and becoming more genuine. "Of course, of course. What else could it be?"

Angela gave him a long, measuring look, considering how long he'd been apart from his wife. "How are things doing with your family? I know you saw them recently."

Noah's smile faded sharply. "Yeah, we had dinner the other night. The whole gang." He swallowed his bile and was pleased to be interrupted by the waiter. He ordered quickly, as did Angela.

After the waiter left, Noah changed the subject. "I had this idea, about putting together an organization or a network, a self-policing one, among the specials." She looked receptive, so he went on. "Run by them… and much more transparent than the Company. We'd need to recruit leadership, and get them together."

"That's a good idea." She nodded. "Yes, it has some merit. The leadership can't stay together though. You know the Rules. That's why we had redundant facilities and spread out geographically as much as possible."

He nodded tiredly and frowned. "Yes, I know the Rules. I know they get winked at a lot though."

"What do you mean by that?"

Still annoyed about the barb directed towards his family's situation, he said, "The Petrelli family has always been an exception."

"We don't live together! My boys didn't have their powers until they were adults and they both keep separate apartments." She sniffed, affronted.

He continued blandly, "I wasn't suggesting the leadership live together. With modern communication technology, we should be able to set something up. Rebel, if we could recruit him, would be invaluable."

"Hm… yes, that's true. Put together a plan for me, Noah. A list of potential leaders and we can discuss it after my current situation is taken care of."

He nodded, warily pleased that she'd given the green light for his idea. Now to get to the current situation, the reason for the friendly chat between friends: "What do you need done?"

Angela tugged at the edge of the tablecloth, as if it might not be even enough to suit her. "There's been a development with Sylar. He knows. He and Peter went to Matt Parkman. Parkman talked."

Noah tilted his head. "Parkman talked? Now why would Parkman do that?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know. Maybe someone got to him. But Sylar knows now and it's coming back to him - quickly, very quickly. We have to get to Parkman. He has to fix this. The experiment did not work."

 _The experiment. So that's what she had decided to call it_ , he mused. "You say Peter went with him."

"Yes."

Noah narrowed his eyes at her when she didn't go on. "So… what's Peter doing about the man who killed his brother?"

Forcefully, Angela said, "Peter doesn't have anything to do with this. This is about Sylar."

Noah nodded. He was beginning to see why Rene didn't want to touch this situation with a 10' pole. "Alright, but there are things I'll need to know. Who else knows? Have they told anyone?"

"Not that I know of. I think they both know that they're far better off with this secret kept than loosed. I don't know who else Parkman might have told, but I suspect no one."

"You know, we talked a couple of weeks ago about having Parkman visit Nathan…"

"As I told you, he refused. This time, I'm sending you, and I trust you to make sure he doesn't refuse again."

Just like the Haitian had refused her. Rene had cleared out of the country altogether, going off the grid. _Hell hath no fury like a Petrelli scorned. Especially Angela._ "You mean… I need to get to him." Noah kept his expression carefully blank.

"Yes. Whatever you need to do. He has a family - a wife, a child, a life. All he has to do is come back and repeat what he did with Nathan. If it doesn't work, then we'll remove Sylar from the equation."

Food was served. Noah ate quietly, reflecting on Angela's casual order for him to ruin someone's life, marriage and family so that she could change a man's personality to better suit her. Not that he cared about Sylar's personality. Sylar was a thing to Noah - a thing he'd rather wasn't in the world and he'd tried several times to get rid of. But Sylar was a dangerous and persistent thing. Noah would prefer not to be killed by him.

But none of this had been Matt Parkman's idea. Bennet had put together a lot of the recent information in Parkman's file and done the research personally. Maybe that was what was bothering him. Parkman was integrating. He was becoming a normal member of society - just what the Company wanted specials to do. If he threatened Parkman's family, Matt would know he'd never be able to mainstream safely.

He watched as Angela picked at her food fussily. "How much of a hurry are you in? Is Sylar killing people?"

"No. I don't think so. But he will. It always goes back to that." She sighed.

"Hm." Noah considered who Sylar's obvious first targets were: Angela and Peter would be easiest. They were already associating. He cocked his head at Angela. "You say he knows… he really knows… everything?" She nodded. "He hasn't done anything to you?"

She gave him the strangest glare and said sharply, "I believe he is rather enjoying his life as my son."

Noah blinked at that.

"And I am, in the interests of preserving my own life, encouraging him to do so."

"Oh." Noah nodded. He guessed that made sense. But really… he would have pegged Sylar as the type to kill her slowly for what she did, instead of celebrate and live it up. What kind of bribe could she possibly offer him that would make him continue to be Nathan, even after he knew? If he wanted the senatorial seat, he could just kill her and Peter, make it look like an accident and none would be the wiser. Peter didn't even have much in the way of abilities these days. Sylar could walk all over them if he wanted to. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

"Okay." He smiled and nodded decisively, even though that had nothing to do with how he felt. "I'm on it, Mrs. Petrelli. But I have to tell you, it might take a while to find Parkman and make sure he's on the team. How long do you think you can keep Sylar… encouraged?"

"Not very long, Noah. Some of the time he's Nathan and the rest he's not - he still looks like Nathan, but you can tell, if you know him really well. And I know… that no matter how well he's pretending to be Nathan, it's an act. It's all just another ploy to get what he wants." She sighed, spreading her napkin over her barely-touched food.

Bennet nodded and pushed back his plate. "Okay. I'll keep you updated."

Noah clicked through the numbers he had in his cell phone's memory. He kept the normal sort of numbers a man of his public standing would have: Sandra, Claire, Lyle, a few friends, most of whom would be surprised to know their numbers were on his cell phone, but he needed the appearance of normalcy. That was important: the appearance of a normal life. What Claire had been talking about for so long. He paused on her number and considered it. She'd stopped talking about wanting to be normal recently. Now she had a new cause - wanting to help, wanting to be involved.

 _One of us, one of them._ He hit the button to dial her number.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey Claire, how are you doing?"

"Oh… the usual. I went to the university counselor today and I think I'm going to switch all my classes to audit. He said that would be the best instead of just dropping out or taking incompletes. That way if I change my mind later I can always come back."

"I think that's a great idea. Do you have plans for the next day or two?"

"No." He could hear her smile through the line. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was talking to Mrs. Petrelli today and she mentioned how long it had been since you'd come to visit. She said Nathan had been out of sorts lately and she thought if you dropped by it might cheer him up, back to his old self. He's always so glad to see you."

"Oh? She said that?"

"Almost exactly." He smiled.

"Well… okay. That's nice… but New York isn't exactly next door to Virginia."

"That's alright. She offered to pay your ticket. Now I'm not supposed to have told you that, and you know if you ask her about it, she'll pretend she doesn't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Yeah, okay. She's like that. I've noticed." Claire shifted the phone to her other side. It _was_ nice to have relatives that were filthy rich.

"Claire… family is really important. I think you know how important it is to me. It's pretty important to the Petrellis too. I think… it's important for you to keep up contact with them. I'm not always going to be in a position to help you - not like they can."

"Dad, you don't-"

"No, listen to me Claire. This is very important. I trust your judgment and you should trust your instincts. If anything's… changed… I want you to come back and tell me immediately. If Nathan and everything that comes with him isn't something you want in your life anymore, I'll respect your decision on that."

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

"Things might have changed, Claire. Just be careful, okay?"

"O...kay…?"

"Good. I'll email you the information for your flight. If I'm still in the area, I'll pick you up from the airport when you get back. Good-bye now. Take care."

"Bye."

He hung up and leaned back, resettling his glasses. He hoped she'd be safe. Sylar had hurt her before, but… she was tough. He couldn't hurt her physically. He looked at his phone again, having second thoughts. He could still cancel it. It wasn't too late. Instead, he set the phone aside, opened his laptop and started booking a flight.


	5. Sylar and Nathan discuss Claire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: Hm, not much to say. I had a lot of fun writing this one. If it matters to anyone, I** **do** **have my reasons for giving Nathan the powers he has in this. Sylar doesn't understand those reasons and Nathan would be disadvantaged to reveal them, so they didn't come up.**

**A/N: Hm, not much to say. I had a lot of fun writing this one. If it matters to anyone, I**   
  
**do**   
  
**have my reasons for giving Nathan the powers he has in this. Sylar doesn't understand those reasons and Nathan would be disadvantaged to reveal them, so they didn't come up.**

His receptionist was calling. He reached forward and answered. "Yes?"

"Mr. Petrelli, Claire Bennet is here to see you."

"Oh! Really! Tell her I'll be right out." His heart jumped in his chest and his breathing sped up. Claire was here! And she thought he was Nathan! There was so much he could do with this! He tried to rise, but instead he saw his arm, quite of its own accord, reach out to the phone and beep the receptionist. He struggled with himself. The arm had a mind of its own. Why wasn't it working? It was like his body wasn't even his own anymore. The receptionist picked up.

"Gay-le?", he choked. Now he was talking and it wasn't him. He cleared his throat, his left hand coming up to touch his tie, his neck. Sylar had a sensation of falling and was suddenly sitting in the chair across the desk, watching Nathan Petrelli talk into the phone. He was entirely outside his own body, dressed in a ragged t-shirt and jeans. He looked around the room in a panic. Parkman wasn't here. How was this happening?

Nathan spoke into the microphone, "Gayle, please tell Ms. Bennet that I'm thrilled to hear she's here, but I absolutely have to take care of something before I see her. It's very urgent."

"Yes, Mr. Petrelli." He clicked off the intercom.

Sylar launched himself across the desk, teeth bared and threw himself into his body so hard it convulsed once. He blinked. No one had resisted him, that time. Not a bit. Nathan was standing on the other side of the desk, impeccably dressed and unruffled. He was examining his cuff links, while Sylar looked down to see that he was, indeed, back in Nathan's body. _No,_ _ **my**_ _body. Sylar's._ Then…? Always before, Nathan had been a voice in his head, or a formless presence, an urge and feelings he could identify with Nathan's memories and personality. Now Nathan was standing in front of him as clearly as Sylar had been in front of Matt. Or vice versa.

Nathan finished making sure his cuffs were properly adjusted and turned to him. "We need to talk. About Claire."

"What… what about her?" Sylar sat up straighter, recovering himself from the shock.

"You're not to touch her."

"What? What do mean? She's here! Do you know how much I'm looking forward to this?"

"Yeah." Nathan nodded seriously. "I kind of noticed that. You're not going to touch her."

" _Touch her?_ "

Nathan gave him a belittling look. "I don't mean physically, like, touch her. I mean… be with her. Romantically. I'm her **father**."

Sylar smiled and started to laugh. "Hey, you mean you're going to get picky **now** about which of your relatives you bed?"

Nathan gave him a level, unmoving glare. "I don't have that sort of relationship with Claire. I'm not going to."

Sylar laughed again. "So don't look. She's not even your daughter. Not the daughter of this body at least."

"You're not going to touch her looking like me. Not in any way."

Sylar noticed he couldn't move from the neck down. He tilted his head. "How are you doing that?" He didn't have this much control when he was in Matt! Nathan didn't even exist. He wasn't a person, he was a set of memories! Sylar could move suddenly. He eyed Nathan to see if he'd let him go because he was having trouble holding him back or if it was just a demonstration. Nathan didn't look tired. Of course, he was pretty good at acting.

"Okay… I get the message." Sylar moved each of his limbs to be sure he could. Obviously, a different tack was needed. Brute force wasn't going to work. "So let me get this straight. You're bedding your **brother** , and you don't want **me** to be with Claire?" Sylar pointed at himself, whom he noticed actually looked like himself, Sylar, but in Nathan's clothes. Not as nice of clothes as the Nathan-on-the-other-side-of-the-desk was wearing, he saw.

Nathan sat down and crossed his legs. "Yep. That's about it. You're not doing it as me."

"But…" Sylar waved his hand around generally, "I could do it and look like someone else. And that would be okay?"

"I'd rather you didn't, but…" Nathan looked conflicted. "No. No, you can't. Just… no." Sylar leaned forward and looked at him intently. Nathan continued, "She'd find out… somehow. I can't have that."

"You can't have that." Sylar chuckled and leaned back in the executive chair. "Do you know how much this means to me? She's special. We're meant to be together."

Nathan blinked at him. Did he sound that sappy when he talked about Peter? Surely not.

Sylar continued, "A hundred years from now, who's she going to have? I'm still going to be here. Anyone else she might pick will be dead!"

"Peter will still be here."

Now it was Sylar's turn to blink at him in surprise. "Peter?" Yes, he could be immortal. In fact, he might already have taken it, from Sylar himself. He felt a surge of jealousy and competition. Peter wouldn't take Claire from him!

"Hey, hold on!" Nathan held up his hands placatingly. "Hold on there. Peter doesn't want Claire. That ship has sailed. He's already got a girlfriend. And anyway, he's her uncle. Ew."

"What?"

"I said he's her uncle. My brother, her uncle?"

"No, he's got a _girl_ friend?"

"Yeah. I think so. It's… It happened while you were with Matt. Recent." Nathan waved his hand dismissively. This wasn't important.

"Then why's he hooking up with you? Me? Us?"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Don't be so small-minded. Do you think I never saw anyone else while Peter and I were together? It would have looked weird if I hadn't."

 _It would have looked weird?_ "But…" Suddenly Sylar didn't feel so special. How many other people was Peter seeing that he didn't know about? He shook himself. What was he even thinking? He'd kissed the guy once, and even then… he was a guy!

Sylar looked at Nathan. "Speaking of Peter. I've bent over backwards for you there. I'm not gay. I'm not even homosexual."

Nathan looked confused. "They're the same thing."

"No, they're not," Sylar answered sullenly.

Nathan gaped for a moment, unable to say anything to something so patently false. Finally he reached up and scratched his brow. "Gabriel, that's like saying water isn't wet."

Sylar waved his hand dismissively at Nathan, mimicking Nathan's earlier motion at him. "Whatever. You want him. I couldn't care less. I want Claire. Do you see where this is going?"

Nathan stared at him steadily for a long moment. "This isn't a trade I'm willing to make. I'll give up Peter for her."

Sylar threw his hands in the air. That wasn't what he wanted! "Okay… fine! What… what sort of trade **are** you willing to have?"

Nathan put both feet on the floor, his elbow on his knee. "You want Claire **that** bad?"

Sylar looked out the window behind Nathan's head. Truthfully, he hardly knew the girl. He had a few object-imprint memories of her, but Nathan resisted giving him anything more, as he apparently did for anyone he cared about. She was pretty, yes, but she hated him. Or at least, she hated Sylar. He wanted to be with her as himself, not as someone else. Being Nathan with her would be kinky, but he'd have to let her know who it really was, at least after the first or second time. He wanted her to know. It had been fun teasing her in the hotel room, before he'd killed Nathan. Ah, fun times! He smiled to himself. He couldn't kill her when he was angry or pissed off like he had with Elle. That was just a really useful trait to have in a partner. Otherwise, the first time you had a serious difference of opinion, the relationship was over. Finally he looked back at Nathan and said, "This is what I want: I want to get to know her."

Nathan gave a very small nod and reached up to rub his lower lip. After a long pause, he raised his brows, shook his head and said softly, "This is insane."

Sylar expelled a short laugh. "A Petrelli's love life - **not** insane? That's like saying water isn't wet, Nathan!"

Nathan gave him a dark look, but Sylar knew he was winning. Nathan swallowed and looked like he was nauseous just to say it, "You can talk to her. As me. Get to know her. See her. Nothing, **nothing** romantic. I won't interfere with you as long as you keep your hands to yourself. You say you're going to live forever and so's she? Then there's no hurry. You get to know her… and we'll talk again."

Sylar grinned. It faded a bit when he realized he was agreeing to nothing more than the same conditions Nathan had opened negotiations with - that Sylar wouldn't touch her romantically in any way. But… he'd gained a concession that they could revisit it later, rather than a 'no, never, not gonna happen'. Sylar stood up and looked at the door. He was ready. He was still excited about it.

Nathan looked at him coolly. "Take some deep breaths. Get a hold of yourself. You're her father. You're happy to see her, but you aren't **that** happy." He glanced down at Sylar's pants, which Sylar thought was totally unfair. Nothing was going on down there yet.

"Fine," Sylar said and stilled himself for a moment. He looked over at Nathan. "What are you going to do?"

Nathan smiled. "I'm going to be myself." And he was gone.


	6. Claire visits Nathan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: Ha! Here we are. What, three updates in one day? I won't be able to keep up the pace, but it's been fun to write.**

**A/N: Ha! Here we are. What, three updates in one day? I won't be able to keep up the pace, but it's been fun to write.**

Nathan Petrelli walked quickly down the hall towards her, smiling broadly. "Claire! It's really great to see you! Come on back to my office." He held his arm wide, inviting her to precede him. She smiled back at him sunnily and walked ahead. "Hey, thanks. Always good to see you too. I heard you were sort of down in the dumps?"

"Oh? Really? Well, not anymore." He closed the office door behind him and headed over to the mini-fridge. He started to reach down for the handle with his left hand… _I'm right-handed_. He was thrown for a moment, then remembered how Claire had caught his slip before when he'd been trying to fool her into thinking he was Nathan. He switched hands smoothly. "Claire, you want something to drink? Let's see here… I've got bottled water, beer, uh… a V8, a strawberry wine cooler, some soda…" He rummaged around a bit. He needed to clean this thing out. Some of this stuff was gross.

"The wine cooler's fine, thanks."

"Sure." He handed it to her, took a beer for himself and sat down. He wished the desk wasn't between them. "So what have you been doing with yourself the last couple of months? How's college?"

"Oh…" She looked at the ceiling and answered slowly, reluctantly. "College was fine…"

"Was?"

"Yeah. I've kind of…" She shrugged and squirmed a little. _That's just adorable_ , Sylar thought. He had a sudden twinge, like a nerve got pinched. He blinked and cleaned up his thoughts. He could fight with Nathan later. Claire went on, oblivious. "I've kind of dropped out of college." Now she was looking at him, looking for his reaction.

"Oh… well…" He waved his hand in a formless gesture. "You've… thought about this?"

She looked pained. "A lot. I talked it over with Dad - Noah, you know - and the school counselor and a few friends… it just wasn't working for me." She shook her head.

 _Noah_ , Sylar thought. _Noah Bennet was the other person who knew._ In all the excitement about seeing Claire, he'd forgotten. That was dangerous. Very dangerous."Really? Then… it sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it. If it isn't right for you now, then it isn't right. You've got to follow your instincts."

"Funny. Dad said something like that to me yesterday." She looked a little troubled.

Cautiously, he asked, "How's 'Dad' doing? He knows you're here, right?"

"Yeah… he's had a lot of problems lately. He's fine, though. He was the one who booked the flight." She waved at the ceiling vaguely. "Something about your mom, I needed to come see you, blah, blah, blah. You know how they are."

"Yeah, I do," Sylar said warily. He looked down and then glanced up at her, brow lowered. "They keep secrets, don't they?"

She laughed. Either she was a better actress than Nathan, or she didn't know anything. He relaxed a little. He really didn't **want** Claire to be working against him. She responded to his words, "Don't they ever! It is **so** annoying! My dad is like the worst! The absolute worst! You… have always been so honest with me. And I really, really appreciate that, I do. But with Dad, it's like I can't trust a word that comes out of his mouth. And you know what the frustrating part is?" Sylar sat up and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk and listening to her intently. He pursed his lips and shook his head, encouraging her to go on. "The most frustrating part is that I know, I **know** that he loves me and he thinks he's protecting me or helping me somehow by lying to me. That's just… it's terrible! How do you live with that?"

"Well…" Sylar gestured at a picture of Peter, Nathan and Angela on the corner of his desk. "You know who I grew up with."

She laughed again. "Yeah. I know." She shook her head. "It's unbelievable. My dad tells me that your mom wants me to come visit, but that if I ask her about it, she'll say she doesn't know anything about it. And I know, I know from how he was talking, that it was totally my dad's idea. He thinks he's getting away with it, but I am **so** onto him. I'm supposed to pretend that I came up here all on my own. I'm supposed to lie to you, to **you** , and everybody, about it. Something so trivial! It's ridiculous! I can't even go see my own **family** without lying about why I'm here?"

Sylar breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It was Noah, not Angela. Maybe Noah was just checking up on him. He could deal with a check-up every now and then. He was Sylar. He'd be offended if Noah didn't think he was worth keeping track of. But the idea that Angela might have turned against him sent ice water running down his back. He was glad to hear she had nothing to do with it. Or did she? He was basing a lot on Claire's ability to divine her father's intentions. Noah was a world-class liar. Claire might not be so "onto him" as she thought.

He shook his head in agreement with Claire, not sure what she'd just said while he'd been pondering. "That's… unbelievable. Really. I totally agree with you." He needed to pay closer attention.

She nodded and lowered her voice suddenly, speaking softly. "Hey, um… there is something… something I wanted to talk to you about that I really can't talk to my… other dad about. You have… so, **so** much more experience anyway. I could really, really use some advice, or just someone I can talk to that I can trust."

He matched his tone to hers. "Sure, Claire. Anytime." He motioned for her to continue.

"Okay," she leaned forward slightly. "While I was at college, I met someone. Someone who really liked me. Like, had really strong feelings for me. I told her… about myself, about my ability, and… that was cool. I mean, sh-, they weren't down with it at first, it can be a little gross, but then she totally was cool with it." Claire rolled her eyes. "Okay, Claire-idiot! Way to be discreet! If you haven't been able to tell, it's a girl. I was… trying not to include that part." She rolled her eyes again, but snuck a glance at Nathan to see his reaction. He looked… sympathetic. Okay… that was good.

"I…," she went on. "I just don't know… how I feel about that, you know?"

"How you feel about her being a girl?" Sylar asked.

"Yeah. I mean, that's… I know it's supposed to be way cool these days to be gay, but… I even think Dad would be fine with it, if I told him. I mean, I think that's not what he has in mind for me, but if I told him that's what I wanted he'd be cool with it."

"Is that what you want?"

"Um…," she scrunched up her face. "I don't know. I mean, I like her. I really like her. But… I don't know if I like her as much as she likes me. And the… all we've done is kissed. Once."

Sylar blinked. If it wasn't that he wasn't getting any tingles from her that she was lying, he would **swear** Peter had put her up to this. Or Nathan. Assuming Nathan **could** , which was a really scary thing to assume. The parallels were just way too strong.

"One kiss?" he said. "Um… yeah, it's hard to gage much from one kiss. And… I know it can be… uh, hard to deal with when you know the other person has a lot stronger feelings about it than you do. That can be… kind of scary. You don't know if you'll lose them completely if you don't reciprocate, and you don't know if you want to reciprocate. Not for sure."

"Yes! Totally!" Claire almost shouted. It startled him. "I knew you would understand! I know… you've done all these things and… everything. Dad… as far as I know, he's never been with anyone **but** my mom. He's so uptight… and so limited." She leaned towards him again. "So, what I want to know, is what do I do?"

"Uh… what do you do?"

"Yeah, what's next? How do I… get back with her? Find out if I want more without… getting committed? You're… great at that, you know? The not-getting-committed part."

"Yeah," Sylar said slowly and mostly to himself, but she could hear him. "I'm great at that… the not-getting-committed part. I kind of wish I wasn't."

She sighed and waited for him to answer her. Sylar glanced at her. _Yes, I am Sylar, dating advice columnist. She really expects me to have the answers_. It was a troubling thought. He was starting to understand some of the "relationship" Nathan had been protecting. Kind of like, once he'd figured it out, he understood why Nathan was protecting Peter from him. It occurred to him that things might go a lot more smoothly if he just listened to Nathan more often. It was **his** life he was trying to live, after all.

"Okay," he laced his fingers together and looked over them at her. "Here's what you do. Find her. Pick a time when you can talk to her privately, or as privately as you can." Claire was listening carefully. "And ask her what she wants you to do."

Claire blinked at him. "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it." He felt a little defensive. Hell, it was what Nathan had told him. It was good advice!

She thought about it. "What if… she wants me to do more than I want to?"

"Then talk about it. Just… sit down, and talk about it. If she can't handle talking about it, then you don't need to be with her anyway." Something else occurred to him - if he gave Claire good relationship advice and she found someone special to her that wasn't him… then he might be in trouble. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Oh." Claire looked down at her hands. "That's a good point. I mean, if you can't talk, then you probably shouldn't do."

"Exactly."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. Sylar felt his chest swell with pride. She thought well of him!

There was an awkward silence. He broke it by saying, "Hey, while you're up here in New York, how about we go by and see Peter? If we hurry, I think we can get there before the end of his lunch break."

Her face brightened. "Oh sure! I'd love to see Peter. Dad said he was working as a paramedic now? Saved his life, apparently."

"Really? I didn't know that. I'll… have to ask Peter about that." There was a lot he needed to talk to Peter about.

They walked out. As they crossed the lobby, he asked her, "Did you know Peter has a girlfriend?"

"No! He does?"

"Yeah, he does. Some mystery woman. I haven't met her. You're going to have to help me find out who she is."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, totally. I'm not leaving without finding **that** out!"

As they went through the lobby, neither of them noticed Matt Parkman, who was trying and succeeding at being the most inconspicuous person in the room at that moment. His target, whose schedule he'd checked that morning, was now leaving unexpectedly. In the company of Claire Bennet, no less, who was obviously carefree and happy to be there. If she'd been any other way, Matt would have assumed she was under some kind of compulsion or control, but she was more smiling and vivacious than he'd ever seen her.

He groaned in frustration to himself. He'd wanted to catch him **alone**. He had to be alone, for what Matt wanted to do. Matt would need all his concentration to delve through the layers of consciousness and be absolutely sure. "Why does today have to be the day he goes to lunch with Claire?" he muttered to himself as they left. Alone… with Claire. Matt furrowed his brow. Nathan had been alone with Claire in his office. Matt had already scouted out the floor. He'd only been waiting for a few more of the staff to leave for lunch before paying a visit on Nathan. The office was secluded at the end of the hall and surprisingly well sound-proofed. Nathan had been alone with Claire and she was happy about it. If Sylar was in there… Matt shook his head. That sick wacko wouldn't be able to control himself from terrorizing her or doing something else foul if he had her alone… and at his mercy.

Matt had already verified that Peter was back at work, like nothing had happened. Matt had avoided being noticed, but Peter's continued good health had been the first strike against his theory that Sylar's personality, his mind, was back in Nathan. Or rather, back in Sylar's original body. Nathan had carried Peter away, which was exactly what Nathan would have done normally. Matt had racked his brain though, trying to figure out where Sylar went. He'd finally decided that Sylar must have wanted Peter's power and he simply wasn't going to overlook an unconscious person with an ability. So he carried Peter away while he was helpless, so he could kill him somewhere less public. But Peter was fine.

Now Matt had two people with abilities, both of whom had been alone with Nathan, neither of which were harmed by it. It was so far out of what Matt knew of Sylar's MO… He'd virtually been on a rampage before, especially while he was working with Danko. If he'd ever let anyone live, they hadn't come forward to talk about it. There was apparently some weird mix-up with that Pinehearst thing, where Sylar had at least been able to master basic conversation with people with abilities, without killing any of them, but Matt didn't have any details on that. It was just a vague rumor.

He sighed. He had to be **sure**. His theory had two strikes against it. He needed three. Nathan would come back to his office eventually. He would probably be back right after lunch. Matt would find someplace out of the way and wait.


	7. Afternoon of Claire's visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: I like reviews. In fact, I've loved each and every review I've received so far and I've noticed when people mark this as a favorite story or me as a favorite author. I've made a special folder in my email to keep these notices. Without reviews, this would have stopped at one chapter. Without more reviews, it would have stopped at two chapters. I'm not saying that infinite reviews = infinite writing, but it sure does encourage me to keep at it! So, if you like my writing, please tell me about it!**

**A/N: I like reviews. In fact, I've loved each and every review I've received so far and I've noticed when people mark this as a favorite story or me as a favorite author. I've made a special folder in my email to keep these notices. Without reviews, this would have stopped at one chapter. Without more reviews, it would have stopped at two chapters. I'm not saying that infinite reviews = infinite writing, but it sure does encourage me to keep at it! So, if you like my writing, please tell me about it!**

It had been a quiet day for Peter. He was happy about that. A week ago, or two, he would have preferred more action because it made him feel like he was making more of a difference. Today, he was just glad no one was getting hurt. He was about halfway through his lunch break, sitting on the back of the ambulance with Hesam, when Nathan's car pulled up. It was a pleasant surprise. All the more so when Claire got out with his brother.

"Oh, hello there! I didn't know you were in town." He greeted them and walked over to where they had parked. He gave Claire a friendly hug.

Claire grinned. "Just flew in this morning." Peter glanced at Nathan. Claire punched Peter in the shoulder. "In an airplane, silly." Peter chuckled. She seemed really happy. Now that he thought about it, Nathan seemed pretty full of himself too. Almost beaming.

"So… Nathan tells me that you've started seeing a certain someone."

Peter gave Nathan a startled look. Had he been horribly wrong in trusting him? His voice carried an edge of warning to it as he spoke, "Nathan, what have you been telling people?"

Nathan heard Peter's tone and responded to it with a slightly hurt, confused look. Claire glanced between them and tugged on Peter's arm, trying to make the mood light again. "You **have** to introduce me to her."

Peter blinked at Claire. "Huh?" He inhaled sharply. "Oooh. I get it." He looked at Nathan, who was still standing back. "You set her up to this, right?"

Nathan smiled and relaxed a little. "You got me."

"She'd better treat you right, Peter," Claire interjected.

Peter chuckled and let her lead them towards a set of benches. "Yeah, I don't want to be with anyone who doesn't treat me right," he said. They sat, Peter and Claire on one bench and Nathan opposite them. Peter went on, "But I don't think things have gotten to that point yet."

"Well, she's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

"No, not really. I mean, she's a woman and she's a friend, but I wouldn't go that far. Where do you get your information, anyway?" He glanced at Claire and then across at Nathan with a slight smirk. "Are you having someone follow me? Because I thought I saw someone yesterday, skulking around."

Nathan laughed. "No… honestly, I don't know where I get my information. It just comes to me sometimes." He spread his hands and looked heavenward. "Other times, I don't get anything." He looked back at them.

"Way to protect your source," Claire grinned. "You'll just have to keep a close eye out, Peter. Big Brother really **is** watching you!" They all laughed.

They had a good conversation, friendly and warm. If Nathan was a little distant from it and let Peter lead on most topics, Claire didn't seem to notice. She told them about college and Annie committing suicide and Claire having a nightmare during Professor Fenton's algebra test. Nathan was warmed that she left the discussion about her girlfriend, or possible girlfriend, between the two of them, not sharing it with Peter. It was a slow enough day that they made nearly half an hour after Peter's break was over before Hesam called Pete for work. Peter left reluctantly, giving Claire another quick hug and reaching out to pat Nathan on the arm. Nathan grabbed Peter's arm before he took off. "Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to see you tonight. We need to talk about some things."

Peter hesitated a second and said, "Sure thing, Nate." He took a few steps away, turned backwards and waved at Claire. "See ya, Claire! Don't be such a stranger!" He wheeled and jogged to the ambulance.

Nathan and Claire walked to the car. "You two seemed to have a weird vibe going on there." Nathan glanced at her and opened the car door, saying nothing. She got in.

When he still didn't say anything after starting the car, she said, "Okay, listen. My dad also said things might have changed around here. What's going on?"

Nathan looked at her. His lips parted slightly and he started to shake his head, denying it. He changed his mind. "Let's… go get something to eat. I'll tell you over lunch."

"Okay." She smiled and looked out the window at the hospital as it receded in the distance. "I've been thinking maybe I should be an organ donor, you know?"

At the restaurant, Nathan called his receptionist and had her move his appointments to the late afternoon. He double-checked when he needed to be back. After he rang off, he turned to Claire. "I'm sorry I can't get out of all my appointments for you. I was on vacation all last week and everything's kind of gotten backed up. But," he picked up his napkin, "we can have a nice, long lunch," he laid it carefully over his lap, "and we can talk… and we can see each other again… tomorrow? Are you going to be in town tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think so. I was going to go by your house tonight. I can stay in a hotel, but I thought… as long as I was here…"

"My house?" Nathan looked startled.

"Yeah, your house."

"You mean my apartment?" Sylar floundered. How the hell was he going to keep his hands off her if she was sleeping in his apartment? A surge of fear went through him. He didn't need Nathan to tell him this was a bad idea. A really bad idea. Sylar didn't trust himself with her. He was sure there was only so much Nathan could do to control Sylar's behavior. If she was in the shower, or it was the late hours of the night… he felt a cold sweat starting.

Claire laughed. "No! You're funny. I mean the Petrelli house." She raised her brows at him and lowered her head. "Where Angela Petrelli lives - my grandmother, your mom?"

"Oh," Nathan nodded. Sylar was relieved and disappointed at the same time.

"I haven't seen her yet."

"Oh, sure. Yeah, you should see her. Peter and I had brunch with her a few days ago. She was… kind of upset we didn't call first." He pulled out his cell. "Here. Use my phone, tell her you're coming over tonight. She's been… a little paranoid about last-minute schedule changes lately."

"Sure." Claire made the call. Of course Angela was "delighted" to have her over and "pleasantly surprised" to hear she was in town. Claire handed the phone back to Nathan. "What are you doing for dinner tonight?" she asked him.

"Well… I don't know how long I'm going to be talking with Peter. This is something that… has kind of been a long time coming. He and I need to talk." She tilted her head, obviously waiting for him to continue. "Last week… I was…" He looked at her intently, trying to read her reaction to this, "I was at a carnival. Not… exactly on vacation."

"A carnival? Like, the Sullivan Brother's Carnival?"

Sylar blinked. Was he being set up? How much did she know? Before his fears could spin out of control, she said, "I was talking to someone just the other day, who had gone to that carnival. She said it was like a family. They were trying to get people with powers to live together there. All together, and make a home for them." She had a long pause as things started to make sense for her. Noah had said things might of changed… "Are you going back?"

"What? Me? No. I've got a home, a family. Peter came for me. It's… it's complicated. I need to un-complicate it tonight. If I can." He turned his glass, fidgeting with it for a moment. "I don't think… he understands what I was doing there."

She laughed softly. "With a family like yours and mine, I can **totally** understand why you'd be tempted to run off to live with a traveling circus."

He laughed easily. She nodded. "I can also understand why Peter wouldn't really get that - that you need a break now and then, when you need to just explore what it would be like to be totally different, not you at all." She smiled.

He smiled back. "Yeah… while I was at the carnival, I was… completely different. Not myself. I learned some really painful things about myself. I'm… I'm not a… I haven't always been a good person, Claire. Not the kind of person I should be." She shook her head, but he waved her off. "No, listen. I realized there was nothing there for me. Being that person, that different person, wasn't getting me anything I wanted. What I wanted was already here. With you. With my mother, with Peter, my job, everything. Being a senator. Some of the meetings I have…" He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Claire was amazed. Nathan had never been this open with her before. "Most of them are trivial stuff and really frustrating, but I can see where this is going, how I can make a difference in a lot of lives. It's what I want to do. I figured that out. So no carnie life for me." He leaned forward and smiled at her.

"Wow. Wow, Nathan. That is… really awesome. I'm so glad for you." She reached across the table and put her hand over his. He looked at it. His breath caught. Her fingers were so nice, her touch soft. He was acutely aware he wasn't getting any nerve pinch this time, or other warning pain. She went on, "I… my friend was trying to talk me into going too. And I thought I could just leave college and go with her."

Nathan tilted his head. "No, no, Claire," he said softly. "You don't want to go there. It's… not a good family. I was there. You've **got** a good family… Noah, Sandra, L…" _Lyle._ "Lyle." He remembered, sickeningly, things he'd done to Noah, pretending to be Sandra, getting close to him, lying to him, destroying him. Sylar didn't mind hurting Noah (the jerk deserved it), but he realized he'd also hurt Claire. Pretty badly too, if her family was so messed up now that she had thought about joining the Sullivan Brothers.

She pulled her hand back. Sylar missed its presence immediately. He wondered if he hadn't broken up her family, if she would still be touching him. She looked around the restaurant and sighed. "Yeah, but… things aren't good at home. They aren't the same anymore. Everyone's all over the place and there's all this tension. Mom's… there's another guy living there."

He perked up. "Another guy? Do you dislike him? I could get rid of him for you." Anything for Claire. He was good at killing people.

She laughed and snorted a little. "Oh! Excuse me. I'm sorry. I just had a vision of you calling out a hit on him or something." A hit? He'd do it himself! What was she thinking? She went on, "No, leave him alone. I don't like him, but he's… trying to fit in and I guess mom likes him. I'm not there very much so it doesn't matter. My dad… we tried to have a family dinner the other day with everyone, including this new guy… and it was a debacle." She talked about the dinner and time seemed to fly by, even for Sylar. He really wished he could be unaware of its exact, precise passage, like most people were. He knew when the time had come that they had to leave or else he'd be late. He couldn't plead ignorance. He and Claire parted ways reluctantly, with him promising to clear a long lunch to meet with her again the next day.


	8. Peter and Nathan have a heart to heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: Lot of stuff here. Longest chapter so far.**

**A/N: Lot of stuff here. Longest chapter so far.**

Matt Parkman was really tired of sitting in the utility closet, breathing in fumes from the cleaning products. It had taken Nathan forever to get back from lunch. What was it with congressmen and abusing their power? When Parkman had been a cop, you were lucky if you got to eat lunch while sitting in your squad car. You didn't get two or three hour lunch breaks. Good grief! Nathan came back alone, but he had people in the office with him almost immediately and there were people in and out until nearly 6. He heard Nathan go up and down the hall at 4:30 asking people to stay late to work on some project.

If he didn't know any better, Matt would think he was doing this just to give him cramps from sitting in this tight space. He was getting a killer of a headache from the chemicals. Luckily, everyone seemed to leave at once. Nathan went down the hall thanking them for their hard work and telling them to pack it in. _Just a few moments more…_ No one lingered and Nathan apparently went down to see them out. Matt worried he might not be coming back.

After a long wait, he cracked the door and listened, finally getting some fresh air. He heard footsteps coming down the hall, but something about them gave him pause. They weren't quite right. It was… Nathan wasn't alone. _Again with the interfering people!_ Matt looked at the ceiling. Who would Nathan be bringing back to the office at this hour? He held his breath as they passed the cracked door, neither of them noticing. It was Peter. _Great. Just great. Well, maybe he'll leave soon._ Parkman griped silently to whatever gods would listen about his lot in life and settled in to continue the stake out.

Nathan didn't say anything on the way up to his office. Peter accepted the silence and let it be. He was looking around the suite of rooms and cubicles as they went, thinking about how Sylar or whoever hadn't changed anything. It all looked the same as when Nathan had been here. If anything, there were even more of his things around - personal touches, things from home, things Peter hadn't even realized they still had.

Nathan stopped in the conference room, pushing a chair out from the table and shoving it back a bit to give some space between it and the neighboring chair. He took a seat and gestured at the other seat for Peter. Peter closed the door and sat down. "You don't like your office?" he said.

"Nah, it's not that. I don't want the desk between us. It's hard to have a… a real conversation with it in the way. It's like I'm busy being a senator then, all formal and stuff, and not… me."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"What?"

Peter leaned forward and looked directly at Nathan, searching back and forth between his eyes. "Who are you? Who's in there?"

"I'm Nathan. Nathan Petrelli. Your brother." He looked uncertain and licked his lips. His fingers rubbed the arm of his chair restlessly.

Peter looked at that - at Nathan being nervous. He leaned back. "Are you sure? Because you sound a lot like Sylar a lot of the time. No…" he needed to be honest, "Some of the time. Your voice, your mannerisms change a little. You're not… quite Nathan. Not all the time."

Nathan looked at him. His fingers continued their restless prowling. "I'm trying to be," he said softly.

Peter cocked his head. After Nathan didn't go on, he said, "I'm getting that. I'm seeing that. And if you are Sylar underneath… that face… then you're doing a hell of a good job of being Nathan."

"Heh." Nathan breathed out slowly. "Thanks." He shook his head and looked off to the side. He looked despondent.

Peter wheeled his chair forward a bit and reached out to Nathan's hand. "Hey. I came by last night, your apartment, the office. I was going to talk to you, then. But you weren't here. You were at that HMO mixer so I went there. I don't think you saw me." Peter smiled a little. "I didn't look like me. I listened to you, kind of followed you around. You were having a really great time, schmoozing, talking to people. You weren't just looking for women to hit on, either. I even saw you turn a couple down who were pretty direct."

Nathan looked back at Peter, listening carefully. Peter went on, "I'd gone there intending to talk to you, but you were being a better Nathan than Nathan. Like," Peter blinked and glanced quickly to the side, "a better person than Nathan was. More focused. It was weird… so I went home. Didn't know what to make of it." Peter leaned back.

"How did you know where I was? Why didn't you just call me?"

"I didn't want to call you. I wanted to **see** you."

"See me?" Sylar wondered if this was a euphemism or just literal.

"Yeah, see you. Talk to you."

"Oh." Nathan studied his knees.

Peter scratched his nose. "How did you know about me and Emma?"

"Who?"

"My girlfriend. Today, you told Claire. I hadn't told you about Emma. Nothing, not a word. Not to mom either. But you knew. How did you know? I need to know if you're having me watched. I really did think I saw someone."

"No, no, Pete. I swear, I don't know how I knew."

"I don't believe you." Peter regretted saying it immediately, because he knew Nathan had just told him the truth, as far as he knew it. The words had just tumbled out too fast. Peter had wanted to keep Emma away from his screwed up family. The idea of Sylar finding out about her gave him chills. It made him want to do something really bad to Sylar, just the thought that he might threaten her.

Nathan was looking around the room, looking lost.

Peter wondered if pushing might help. "I need to know how you knew. It's really important to me. Earlier you said it just came to you. Tell me about that."

"I…" he shifted slightly and Peter blinked. His mannerisms had changed again. Nathan spoke softly, but directly and without hesitating. "You told me, Pete. The other day, when we had dinner. Some sort of Chinese chicken. You were telling me about where you'd been eating. Places you'd gone with this guy you worked with. They were all dives, sandwich places. You told me how they had great food and you got a lot for your money. Then you told me about other places, places you went to with Emma." He looked closer at Peter. "Your voice got softer. You looked up more. You moved your hands more like you were trying to talk with them." Nathan made several gestures that were almost, but not quite, sign language. Peter inhaled and leaned back. Nathan didn't know sign. Had he… he must have made those gestures while talking to Nathan, without realizing it. "You talked about the great ambiance and how it was a nice place to sit and talk and get away from things. You love her, Pete. I heard it in your voice, your body, your language, your words, what you thought was important about those memories. **You** told me."

Peter was blown away. Nathan had always been able to read him really well, read nearly everyone a little too well to be human, but he'd never explained how he did it. All of those details… and Peter had always thought _he_ was good with people, a good listener. "Um… okay," he said weakly.

Now it was Nathan's turn, but he wasn't quite being Nathan. Peter looked at him and tried to set in his mind what Nathan was doing that wasn't quite right. He needed to remember it, so he knew who he was talking to. The shift was way more subtle than usual for multiple personalities. He'd done some reading. Different personalities usually made dramatic attempts to differentiate from each other - different clothes, accents, activity levels, habits and interests, different sets of friends, priorities and moral standards. He'd thought that might be what was going on here, a division like with Jessica and Niki. He thought he needed to be worried about when Sylar was in control. But it didn't seem to be the case. Watching Sylar and Nathan - it was like they were trying to be _each other_. Not trying to be different.

Nathan asked, "How did you know where I was last night?"

Peter furrowed his brow and shrugged. Why did this matter?

Nathan went on, "You said you came by, I wasn't here. The office must not have been open. I wasn't home. How did you know I was at that party?"

"I have a key, Nathan."

Nathan cocked his head. A memory of giving Peter a set of keys nearly a year ago came to him. "A key," he said.

"Yeah, a key. Nothing so incredible as your mind-reading thing. I just came in the office, got out your schedule book and checked to see where you were supposed to be." Peter shrugged. "Normal, everyday snooping."

"Mm." Nathan raised his brows and nodded. "That makes sense." After a pause he laughed and it was definitely not Nathan's laugh. That was just creepy, Peter thought. Sylar said out loud, "All that stuff about the places you ate, I remembered all that and Nathan knew what it meant, but I just now realized it happened that night. I **heard** you unlock the door downstairs, before you came up. I **heard** it. And I didn't think about it!" He grinned at Peter. Not Nathan's grin. Peter wondered if he realized that he'd just referred to Nathan as a separate person.

Peter frowned. "You want the keys back?"

"What? No!" Nathan said it very strongly. Peter blinked at him. Sylar stood up restlessly. "I came here to talk to you… because… you're a part of Nathan's life and I want… I want you to stay in it. I can't be Nathan… there's no reason to be Nathan… if…" He growled suddenly and sat down violently, grabbing his hair and pulling it.

"Hey, hey, hey," Peter said softly, but he didn't move to touch him. Sylar jerked and sat up normally, hurriedly trying to put himself back in order as Nathan. Peter watched the process. It was quick.

"Listen," Peter said quietly, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way. Please, please don't take it wrong. I mean… I want to be in your life too... Have you thought about talking to a counselor?"

Nathan snorted. "What would I tell them? I'm a guy who can fly with a brother who blew up once, but who's fine now? Or maybe I could tell them I'm a dead guy trapped in a serial killer's body?" He rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Yeah…" Peter said, "I don't think that would work." He tried to think of anyone who knew about abilities and was impartial enough to listen to Sylar, who might do him some good. "You can talk to me."

Nathan looked at him steadily for nearly a minute. "What?" he asked him. At Peter's questioning look, Nathan elaborated, "What would I say?"

Peter leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. He'd listened to a few deathbed confessions as a hospice nurse. It was amazing what things people had done in their lives. It had made him a lot more accepting and tolerant of things than he might have been otherwise. "What's going on in your head? It seems to be hurting you. Maybe you can talk it out." Nathan looked away, frowning. Peter tried again, "Everything you've gone through lately… I don't know what's happening to you. I can't imagine what's going on for you. Matt Parkman acted crazy when we saw him. I don't want to lose you."

Nathan looked back at him then, expression softening. "'Don't do it, Nathan!' 'Go ahead, I'll be right behind you.'" Peter realized Nathan was repeating things Peter had said to him, the day they'd met Parkman. "'I'm always going to see my brother in you.'" He leaned forward slowly. He had Sylar's expression, like when he was trying to figure something out. He was looking at Peter's forehead. Peter didn't pull back. He didn't need to be afraid of Sylar as long as Nathan was in there. Sylar cocked his head one way and then the other. He shook his head slowly. "You **knew**. Matt told you what I was and you tried to stop me from touching his hand. You wanted me to stay… like this. As Nathan. I threw you into a wall to get to Sylar. I could have killed you. And when you woke up, you knew what I was. You still wanted to go with me." Sylar's voice got a little harder, but no louder. "I **told** you what I was. Just in case you didn't understand. I was trying… trying to tell you to leave. For Nathan's sake, just to leave. I was going to end it - somehow. Nathan couldn't let a monster like this live. And… you didn't even leave for the night. You said you didn't care… or at least that it didn't matter. That we'd get through it."

He leaned away and looked out the conference room windows at the hall. "You know… I'm dead."

"Go on," Peter said softly. Everything was making sense.

Nathan rubbed his hands together slowly, looking at them. "I really like being Nathan. I don't want to be a killer, Pete. I don't want to be Sylar." He made a motion with his right hand, exactly as Sylar did when he cut into his victim's forehead. He was roughly pointing at Peter. Peter found it unsettling, but he didn't flinch away and nothing happened to him. "I don't want to kill people. I've killed plenty of them. I don't want to kill anymore. I tried to kill **myself** after the first one. I should have succeeded. I should have tried again. But I didn't. I started killing more and more, thinking someone would stop me. Someone would take care of it for me. I got sloppy. I left clues. But people were so **stupid**!" He balled his hands into fists.

"They couldn't stop me. They came after me, but they couldn't stop me. I was special. They were normal, they were stupid, they made mistakes. I did whatever I wanted to do, took whatever I wanted, whoever I wanted. I killed my own mother, Peter! She wouldn't accept me. She wouldn't accept what I'd become. And I was a monster. I tried to be better and it just… it all went wrong." He spread his fingers. "It all just slipped through my fingers. I tried to be your brother, but it was a lie. They were lying to me, using me. You told me. And I saw in you, that I'd been remade. You had my power. You were driven by the hunger just like I was. They wouldn't be able to stop you either."

He took a deep breath, "I joined up with Danko and found out how corrupt the government was. I'd never paid attention to it before. Wasn't a part of my life. But… it was riddled with secret agencies, run by people with abilities, pulling the strings, hunting people like us. A conspiracy nut's wet dream." He shook his head. "I thought, if they could do that, someone stupid and soft like Nathan Petrelli could have someone use their powers to get him elected, then I could do it too. But I wouldn't settle for being a senator. I'd be the president. I'd call all the shots. No one could stop me, and if they did, fine! Good! I needed to be stopped. I didn't care."

He looked at his hands, palms up and smiled. "Everyone likes Nathan. You love him. Angela loved him. I know… she's not the best mother… but… you guys had a way better childhood than I did. I could… trade places with him. I think I **am** him. I'm pretty sure that's just whatever Parkman did to me, but I'd rather be Nathan than Sylar. I don't know how to go back to being Gabriel Grey."

Peter raised his brows. "Gabriel?"

Sylar looked at him. Peter knew he was called that. "My birth name. Or-" he laughed suddenly. "I don't even know what my birth name **was**. Gabriel Grey is what I was called by the two people who raised me. The ones I thought were my mother and father. Until I knew better.

"I don't know where I came from. I don't know where I'm going. I just know, I'd rather be doing it as Nathan Petrelli than as any of my other choices." He leaned back and let his hands dangle off the armrests. Not one of Nathan's poses.

When it was clear he wasn't going to continue, Peter nodded. "Thank you. Gabriel, Nathan. Thank you for telling me that. I think it's really important that you can talk about it. Get it out." He watched the other man's face carefully. He was regarding him intently. Finally Peter added, "I love you."

Sylar answered, "I love you too, Peter."

Finally! They had opened the conference room door. Damn sound-proofed conference rooms. What had they been going on about in there for so long? The pair paused in the hallway, talking quietly about their plans for the next day. They were both quiet and subdued. Peter started to leave when Nathan suddenly reached out and grabbed his elbow, bringing his brother around to face him. He hesitated for a moment, mouth open slightly, looking at Peter's face. Peter leaned forward and kissed him.

Matt's eyes bugged. That was no brotherly kiss! The arms they put around each other, the hands… Matt leaned away from the crack in the door. He didn't want to see. He could still hear a few sounds. Ick. He suspected there was nothing in this closet that could bleach that image from his brain. _Okay, NOT Sylar!_ He heard Peter whisper huskily, "Gotta go" and walk away. Matt looked out the crack of the door again. Nathan was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, staring at the ceiling. It looked like he was fighting back tears.

 _Great, just great. Here I am, eavesdropping on intimate moments I_ _ **never**_ _wanted to know were going on. All day today, in this stupid closet, for this! Why? Why is God punishing me?_ He would have sighed, but he was afraid Nathan would hear, being so close. Finally, not long after the door downstairs had closed after Peter's departure, Nathan walked off, taking the stairs up to the roof. _I'll never catch him there,_ Parkman thought. _No reason to, anyway. That's not Sylar._

 **A/N #2: It occurs to me on rereading that someone who wasn't in my brain might think this is the end. It's not. We've had character introduction and development… there's conflict yet on the horizon. Keep reading, keep reviewing.**

 **A/N #3: Whoops! Sorry for the repost. I had a tiny continuity error to fix. It's fixed now.**


	9. Claire works on the puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: I know a lot of people think Claire is pretty dumb, but I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here. I love what they'd done with her recently in the series, which has caused a serious upgrade on the credibility-meter for her.**

**A/N: I know a lot of people think Claire is pretty dumb, but I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here. I love what they'd done with her recently in the series, which has caused a serious upgrade on the credibility-meter for her.**

 **Chronologically, this happens before Nathan and Peter have their heart-to-heart in the conference room, but I didn't want to break up the Parkman stakeout by putting this between it.**

 **A/N #2: I had hoped to get more done on the beta-reader front, but that has not progressed. I've had a volunteer, but I can't figure out how to send the chapters to her (or him?). On the good news front, I've finished the story except for the epilogue. It's done, it flows, it has an arc and I like it. I'm just tying up loose ends in the epilogue and explaining why certain characters did certain things. I'm posting this to give those wonderful folks who have subscribed to me the next chapter. After I read through the next chapter a few times, I'll probably post it tonight as well. Then the last two tomorrow. Maybe I can get a beta read done for them tomorrow, or started, which will delay posting until the kind beta reader gives feedback.**

Claire spent the rest of her day taking the taxi around the city, looking at the sights and doing a little shopping. Despite her upbeat patter to Nathan, she was dreading dealing with Angela Petrelli. She had **so** hoped Nathan would be eating dinner with them. He always kept the conversation moving, usually on things other than what Angela thought Claire should be doing with her life - an annoying topic for Claire. Angela was not going to be happy about her dropping out of the college Angela had pulled strings to get her into. Nathan nearly always agreed with his mother to her face, but then he'd take Claire aside and talk to her about ways that both she and Angela could get what they wanted. Claire had learned a lot about manipulation from him.

She'd learned manipulation from both the Petrellis and her father. She rolled her eyes just thinking about Noah Bennet. What was this crazy mission he'd sent her on? Because she was pretty sure that's what it was. She went over what she thought her father wanted her to do. She was supposed to cheer up Nathan, who didn't seem to need cheering up. In fact, she'd never seen him so happy, almost bursting with happiness to see her. Other than the carnival thing, which he seemed to have put entirely behind him, there didn't seem to be anything worth noting going on in his life right now.

Claire was also supposed to keep up ties with the Petrelli family because her father thought something might happen to him soon and he expected Claire to rely on the Petrellis rather than her mom and her mom's new boyfriend. Having met the new boyfriend, Claire was inclined to agree with her father. Even without that, families with the resources and connections of the Petrellis were rare and she understood why her father was pushing her to be one of them. The problem with that was that she couldn't stand how they operated. Peter was the most clear-headed and honest of them and she loved him dearly. She loved Nathan too, but he was just wrong-headed sometimes and when he was, he wouldn't let go of it or let anyone, not her, not Peter (but maybe his mother), talk him out of it. He was a lot like his mother.

The less said about her, probably the better.

Then her father wanted her to trust her instincts and decide if she wanted bio-dad out of her life. She stared out the window of the taxi as it idled in the interminable traffic. Wasn't this one contradicting the previous one? If she cut off ties with Nathan, wasn't she cutting off ties with the Petrellis? Had Nathan been less happy than usual with his mother? Were they at odds? There had certainly been a weird vibe between him and Peter, like they were being overly cautious of each other. Nathan and Peter were going to have a long talk tonight - a talk that was more important than eating dinner with her, even though Nathan really did seem thrilled to see her and normally dropped anything and everything to spend time with her.

What was it her dad wanted to know? She'd be at the Petrelli house in just a few minutes, if the traffic cleared (this was what she got for waiting until 5:30 to head there - darn rush hour!). She needed to know what she was walking into. She got out her cell phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

She smiled to hear her father's level, unhurried voice. "Hi Dad. Everything's going fine. I'm on my way over to the Petrelli house for dinner. I was going to stay there tonight and leave tomorrow afternoon. I checked the outbound flights earlier." She related to him the flight times and waited for him to ask her for her report, as she thought of it. What he wanted to know would tell her a lot.

"So tell me how things are in New York?" he asked.

"They've been great. I'm really happy you had me come up her," she gushed.

"Oh, yeah? That's good to hear." _I notice you're not bothering to claim it was Angela's idea_ , she thought. A few seconds passed. Claire resolved to wait him out.

It worked. Noah said, "You say you're going to the Petrelli house. It's already after five there." _And you're not in my time zone. No one says 'after five there' in their own time zone._ Noah continued, _"_ I would have thought you'd have stopped by earlier to see Nathan or Peter."

 _A-ha!_ "Yeah, I did. They're doing fine. Nathan was super happy to see me."

"He was? How's he doing? Is being a senator still working for him? He's had a couple times when he's gone other directions."

"Oh… yeah. He's really into his job right now. He had a vacation last week and he said it really helped him focus on what he wanted to do with his life. I wish I had that sort of clarity right now."

"Oh?" Noah inquired. "Where did he go on vacation? Maybe you could go there too."

"Ha. It was that carnival we talked about the other day. The one you said was bad news."

Noah hesitated. Claire grinned fiercely and made a silent "Yes!" hand-pump gesture. Noah said slowly, "So… he was at the Sullivan Brother's carnival all last week?"

"Yeah, that's what he said. And you wouldn't believe it, but he told me to stay away from it too. I guess you and he are a lot alike."

"Well…" Noah floundered a little and fell back on a stock answer, "We just both want what's best for you, Claire-bear."

Claire waited another really long beat and let her father lead the conversation again. Finally he said, "So he's doing okay in his job right now?"

"Yeah." _That's odd. He doesn't want to know anything else about the carnival._ That shot down her best theory-of-the-moment. There didn't seem to be anything else to report on.

"And is anything else going on in his life? How's Peter?" _But boy is he ever persistent about wanting to know what's up with Nathan._

"Oh, they're fine. I saw Peter at lunch. He's doing good, looking really fit." She thought about how awesome Peter looked in his tight paramedic uniform and then tried desperately to move her thoughts along to something less sordid than fantasizing about her uncle. _Focus, Claire, focus!_ "He's… yeah, look-, uh, doing good. He seemed pretty happy too."

"Really. Him and Nathan getting along after everything that happened with Danko?" _So back to Nathan, maybe with a little about Peter thrown in, but not a subject change to Peter by himself. Hm._

"Yes, of course! They settled all that before they went after Sylar."

"Sylar… yeah." Noah drew the words out a little too much.

There was a long pause. Claire cocked her head. _Now what did that mean?_ She tried the direct approach, even though she knew it was stupid to try it with her father. She couldn't resist. "What happened with Sylar?"

"Oh? Nothing happened with Sylar. I was just saying that past issues sometimes resurface in a relationship as complicated as theirs." _That was a lie_. She was sure of it. Noah Bennet kept his voice too level, too steady, when he lied and he usually said a lot more when he was lying than when he was telling the truth. If it had been the truth, he would have said something like, ''Nothing' and 'It's complicated' and moved on. Giving an explanation, adding extra words - it was a clear tip-off.

"What does that mean?" she pressed, even though she knew it would be fruitless.

"Well… they've had a lot of things happen to their family."

Claire narrowed her eyes. _Family was a big theme when I talked to him yesterday_. "And family's important."

"Oh yes, very important."

"Would you say it's the key to what's going on right now?"

Noah looked at his phone. Who was this person who had replaced his daughter? This was what he imagined it would be like trying to talk to himself! "What are you getting at?" He really needed to watch Claire. She was growing up so much. He felt a small swell of fatherly pride at that.

 _Might as well put my cards on the table. Got nothing to lose, really_. "Oh, nothing. You just sent me up here on some kind of mission and you didn't have the decency to tell me what it was!"

Noah was silent for a long time. Okay, well, yes, she'd figured him out. He still didn't think she needed to know the details of the case. Despite her excellent sleuthing, he didn't think she had the poker face to carry it off so deep in enemy territory. It would be safer if she just didn't know. But how to convince her of that? Claire looked up at the Petrelli house as the taxi pulled up. She waited while the driver processed her credit card. She'd almost assumed Noah had hung up, but he finally said, "Claire, we'll have to talk about this later."

"Sure thing, Dad." She hung up and got out of the car. Well… that wasn't a total loss. She'd picked up a few more clues and she'd occupied her mind with something other than her dread of coming here. She looked up at the imposing residence.

"Family is the key to what's going on right now and it has something to do with Sylar," she muttered. Sylar. Hadn't Angela told him he was her son? Sylar had insisted she deny it or prove it when he'd trapped them. Apparently he had a power to tell truth from lies. Claire thought about how she would kill for that ability sometimes. She also recalled that Angela had stubbornly refused to answer, robbing Sylar of his chance to know for sure. She mounted the steps slowly. Sylar was dead. Claire had seen his body burned and her father and Angela had some scheme to scatter the ashes and mix them with something. She hadn't paid attention to it. Seemed morbid and unnecessarily complicated. Was it possible to come back from that? She knocked.

What was it Sylar had told her? That she couldn't be killed, that she was the most special of them all? Did he mean that nothing, not even burning and scattering ashes, would kill her? He'd been burned up at Primatech and he'd survived. Everyone had assumed the glass melted. What if his entire body had just sort of… reconstituted itself? If that was possible, then he would have done the same thing after they cremated him, pretty much no matter what you did with the ashes. She's seen stranger things in comic books. She knew **she** grew back parts that were cut off. Not so much of a stretch to grow back parts that were burned off. Maybe it just took him a long time to do it, which was why things were happening now, after so many weeks.

Her musing was interrupted when the door opened and Angela greeted her personally. She resisted the urge to blurt out, ' _So, how's your family now that's Sylar's back?_ ' and see if it got a reaction. It probably wouldn't, no matter what sort of crazy stuff was going on. Angela was just that good.


	10. The Set Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: In my notes, this chapter's called "The Set Up". You'll see why. You may also see that who-knows-what was starting to get complicated, which is why I was seeking beta readers. If I've overlooked some huge plot hole(s), feel free to tell me about it in the reviews and I'll bang my head on my desk for you. If it's bad enough, I'll rewrite and repost.**

**A/N: In my notes, this chapter's called "The Set Up". You'll see why. You may also see that who-knows-what was starting to get complicated, which is why I was seeking beta readers. If I've overlooked some huge plot hole(s), feel free to tell me about it in the reviews and I'll bang my head on my desk for you. If it's bad enough, I'll rewrite and repost.**

Matt walked to a park bench across from his car and sat down on it, elbows on knees. For the millionth time, he sought through his mind for traces of Sylar's presence. It wasn't there. Sylar was gone. Or if he wasn't gone, then he was hiding for some reason and he'd been doing it for nearly a week now. Why would he do that? If he couldn't get into Nathan for some reason, then he should still be in Parkman. Maybe he'd been blocked from getting into Nathan and made a transfer later into someone else? Even now he could be directing that body to find someone with a power he wanted so he could take them over like he'd taken over Parkman. Matt had to do something about it.

He pulled out his phone and toyed with it for a while, looking around the park. There was really only one person he could call about this. After stalling for several minutes, he dialed.

Noah Bennet looked at his caller ID. It read: PARKMAN, MATT. "Hm," he said to himself. "This might be a lot easier than I'd expected." He'd spent the whole day wandering around southern California trying to figure out the most likely place for Parkman to have run to after the "Suicide by Cop" incident. Most people went somewhere familiar after trauma. Home and work had been busts. Nathan was just leaving the young Parkman's daycare, having learned what he needed to know. He walked to his car and answered the phone.

"Hello." Noah smiled and leaned against the hood, enjoying the late afternoon sun.

"Noah?"

"Yes."

"There's been a problem. I lost Sylar."

"You lost him?"

Matt grimaced. "Yes, I lost him. Whatever I did to push Nathan into his body and get Sylar out ended up with Sylar being trapped in me. I've been trying to contain it, but I failed. He was on his way to New York to get his body back before I stopped him in Texas. I thought if I killed myself, that would be the end of him."

"Uh-huh," Noah sounded unimpressed.

Matt frowned, but he went on, "Then… something happened to me. I woke up and I was healed. Peter and Nathan were there. I touched Nathan's hand and Sylar was gone. They left."

"Mm-hm."

Matt looked at his phone and wondered why he was even bothering. He'd imagined this would be new information to Noah and that he might actually care. Since, you know, it was Sylar. "Listen, do you want to hear this or not?"

"Of course I do, Parkman. That's why I answered your call."

Matt rolled his eyes and continued, "Okay, well, I thought Sylar must have jumped into Nathan's body, but so I came here and it's a no-go. I don't know where he is now. I need your help to find him."

"Tell me where 'here' is."

"I'm in New York." Matt glanced around the darkened park.

Noah straightened and got in his car, closing the door quietly. "You don't think Sylar is in Nathan's body?"

"No, he's not." Matt shook his head.

"I have it on very good information that he is." Noah started the car and pulled out.

"Well, he's not."

Noah merged into traffic. "Did you _look_?"

"No, I didn't _look_! Do you know how hard it is to get that man alone?" Matt stood up, the memory of his frustrating day flooding through him again. "I can't find out where the guy lives either!"

"He probably lives in an apartment rented by a fictional employee of a holding company owned by the Petrelli Trust."

Matt was silent for a moment. "Oh. Well… yeah, that would explain why I couldn't find anything under N. Petrelli."

Noah shrugged a little. "The Petrellis are a very private family."

"I found Peter easy enough!"

Noah nodded. "Peter's living a very different lifestyle than the rest of the family. If you didn't _look_ , then how are you sure Sylar's not in Nathan?"

"He's… he's doing things Sylar wouldn't do."

"What kind of things?"

 _God! He just doesn't let up, does he? I don't even want to talk about this._ "He's doing… Nathan things… I guess. I didn't _look_ at his memories when I put them in Sylar's body. I just put them in! Let's just say the Petrellis have kinks even Sylar would never stoop to."

"Hm." Somehow, even with that tempting subject matter, Noah managed to sound uninterested.

Parkman shook his head rapidly, trying to get the image out of his mind. _Something else. What else was Nathan doing? Think of something else._ "He's being… he's being Nathan Petrelli. You know, he's working, and he's seeing Pe… uh, you know, he was with Peter when he left and he was with Claire here, alone. You do know Claire saw him today, right?"

"Yes," Noah said in his level, measured tone.

 _The man was infuriating._ Matt began to pace. "And you don't care? Sylar might be in him and you don't care that he… went out to lunch or whatever for **hours** with your daughter?" Or given what he'd seen, that Claire was alone with **Nathan** for hours. Matt wondered if that was really safe. The man obviously knew no boundaries of common decency. Claire was a really attractive girl.

"She's fine, isn't she?" Matt could hear a slight smile in Noah's voice.

"Yeah, but that's not the point."

Bennet was silent on the other end of the line.

"Alright, fine. You don't care. It's not a big deal. Sylar's not in Nathan anyway."

"No, from what you've just told me, I'm very sure that he is."

"Then… What?" _But… I just told you I was sure Sylar wasn't in Nathan!_ Matt looked around desperately. _And what the hell was Claire doing there with him?_

"I have it from a very reliable source that Sylar is in Nathan and is continuing to pretend that he's Nathan Petrelli."

"Why would he do that?"

Noah sounded actually curious, "I don't know."

"It's Sylar!" Matt raised his voice in agitation. This was a mystery that had been bothering him all day. "Why would he stay as Nathan? He **knows** I know he's out there. He **knows** we're going to hunt him down. Why would he stay where we could find him?" Matt paced faster, gesturing with his words for emphasis.

"I've been wondering that myself." Noah took the ramp onto the highway. "Do you think it's possible that he still believes he **is** Nathan?"

"I don't think so. What was in me was totally Sylar. He knew exactly who he was. He killed a man, **with my body** , just to prove a point to me! The man was helping me change a fucking tire! And this psychopath **kills** him! He's a **sick fuck**!" Matt shook his fist impotently in the air. _What I'd like to do to Sylar… If I ever get a chance to end him, I'm going to do it in the most painful way possible. Like something out of a horror movie. And it's going to hurt, really bad, for what he's done to me, and everyone else._

Noah nodded, thinking about what Sylar had done to Claire. "Yes, I believe 'sick fuck' is the technical term for him."

Matt put his fist on his hip. "So what are we going to do?"

"Well, you're going to pick me up from the airport in the morning. Then we'll lure Nathan to our turf, on our terms, and you can work your magic on him again. If Sylar's not in there, we'll apologize and move on. If he is, then we have him. And if you can't get him out for good, we get rid of him."

Matt nodded. The idea of getting rid of Sylar was very attractive to him at that moment. He needed to start thinking about how he'd do it. "Okay. Alright. So where are you now?"

Noah looked up at the highway signs, searching for the right link to the one that took him to the LAX. "I'm in Texas. Might take me a while to get to an airport though. I'll call you later when I know when my arrival time is."

"Sure. Texas is pretty big. What, were you near Odessa? Looking for me?"

"Something like that…"

"Yeah, I figured." Matt sounded smug.

"Okay, I'll call you later." Noah hung up. He shook his head sadly. Odessa was _yesterday_.

Bennet was very pleased with the airlines. He'd managed to get a flight out that left in a little over an hour and he didn't even have to use any clearance codes to do it. With security these days, that was saying something for a same-day, late-notice flight. He hadn't been able to get a seat with extra legroom, but he'd live. He'd told Matt to pick him up at 5 am, which should give him plenty of time to make the stops he needed in New York for equipment.

It was time to make another call. Angela answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hello, Angela."

"Why, hello, Noah. Claire's here. Would you like to speak with her?" Claire looked up from the book she'd been reading about the road to the presidency. After an excruciatingly tedious evening, she'd finally found something that Angela had a lot to say about that Claire actually wanted to hear. How to achieve greater power in the country, and the many and varied paths others had taken to achieve it, was apparently one of Angela's obsessions.

"No, not necessarily. I was calling for you." Noah crossed his legs at the ankles and stretched while he had the opportunity. A five hour flight was going to leave him stiff as a board.

"Oh?"

"I found Parkman. He's on board. I think the sooner we do this the better. Do you agree?"

"Yes, very much." She nodded slightly, glancing at Claire, who was busy reading again. Or at least appearing to read. Angela smiled as she noticed Claire's eyes weren't tracking back and forth with the printed words, like they should be.

"Then I'd like to do it tomorrow. Invite Nathan over for lunch. Make sure he can't refuse. We'll do it then."

"Alright. Claire told me her flight out is tomorrow afternoon. I think she's going to have lunch tomorrow with Nathan. It's already scheduled." She put the slightest stress on the last word of each sentence.

Noah paused and thought about what she was saying. "Good. I'll deal with Claire when I get there. Make sure Peter's out of the loop."

"Of course. Good-bye, Noah." She hung up and took a moment to review her side of the conversation. She turned to Claire. "Your father was just checking on your schedule. Now, where were we? The early Clinton years, wasn't it?"

Claire sighed and flipped back a page. "Yeah, I think that's where we were." _'Checking on my schedule.' Yeah, right. I gave my father my schedule just a couple hours ago. Afternoon… Nathan… scheduled. Huh._

The next morning, Claire looked up from the computer at the sound of the doorbell. She saved her email to Lyle as a draft and shut everything down. Someone had just come in and she heard her father's familiar tone. She hurried into the room fast enough to see Angela Petrelli shut her mouth with a snap and give her a sideways glance. Her father was standing in the foyer, briefcase in one hand and a large duffel bag in the other. Close behind him was Matt Parkman, who carried a second duffel by a strap over his shoulder. Noah looked over at Angela and gave her a slight shrug. He set the duffel bag down on a small table. It was heavy and made a metallic settling sound. Claire walked forward.

"What's in the bag, Dad?"

Noah looked directly at her and said, "Materials for taking out Sylar."

"Oh." She stepped closer, interested.

Matt glanced back and forth between Angela's face and Noah's back. Noah's face split into the broadest possible grin. He was so pleased. Claire wasn't in the least surprised. He put his arm around her shoulders and said, "Come on. We need to talk about things."

They walked out into the garden and he shut the door firmly behind them. He glanced back for a moment through the paneled glass. When he turned back, his voice was soft and warm. "Hey, Claire." He gave her a big hug.

"What's all this?" she said, her voice muffled a bit by his coat.

"You are doing great and I'm just so proud to be your father. Now let's talk about what's really going on."

He sat down on a wrought iron bench and spoke, "Sylar never died. He's operating under deep programming put there by Matt Parkman to make him think he's Nathan Petrelli."

She blinked at him, then swallowed and tried to look less surprised. _Well, that's not exactly what I thought was going on…_

A beat later, she realized that meant she'd spent the previous day hanging out with Sylar. A surge of panic went through her. Then anger, that her father had sent her there. She looked at him and opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind about it and saw him reading her like a book. She shut her mouth. Then said, "Oh… okay. Yeah."

Very quietly, he said, "You need to work on your emotional control. I suggest using a mirror at first."

"Um," she blinked at him, trying to process this and everything else crashing through her brain at once. "Okay. I'll do that. Thanks."

He nodded. "The programming needs to be updated. So what we're going to do today is have you call Nathan and invite him to lunch here with his mother. Matt and I will immobilize him, Matt will use his ability, we'll wake Nathan up, tell him nothing happened, and everyone will go on their merry way. Do you understand?"

She hesitated. Someone was missing from this equation. "But… where's Nathan? The real Nathan?"

Noah looked down. This would be the hardest part. If she couldn't deal with it, then they'd go to plan B. He looked back up at her. "Nathan's dead, Claire. Sylar killed him."

She gasped. Tears welled up in her eyes. "But… I… I saw him just yesterday…" She looked down and to the side and started sniffling. Noah stood up and hugged her to him. "I'm sorry, Claire-bear. I know he meant a lot to you." They stood together for several minutes while he gently stroked her back and she cried on his shoulder. Matt came over once and looked out the glassed door at them, then retreated out of sight again.

Claire blew her nose on Noah's handkerchief and laughed roughly. "So much for my emotional control!" She sniffed mightily and sank down on the bench. Her father sat down next to her and put his arm around here. "I'm… I don't know… what happened?" At Noah's questioning look, she said, "What happened to Nathan? When?"

"Seven weeks ago, when Peter and Nathan tried to kill Sylar. Sylar killed Nathan… and… Matt was able to transfer Nathan's memories into Sylar's body."

She blinked. "Then does that mean… that… the man I saw yesterday is actually Nathan, but just in Sylar's body?"

Noah shook his head. "No, not really. That's not how it works. He's still Sylar. He just thinks he's Nathan."

She furrowed her brow. "And he has all of Nathan's memories?" Her father nodded.

"Then… what's the difference?"

"Between what?"

She blew her nose again. Her tears were ending. "The difference between being a person for real and thinking you're that person and having all their memories?"

Noah stared at her, trying to think of how to answer that definitively. Before he could answer, she went on, "Because the man I saw yesterday… that wasn't Sylar."

"It wasn't supposed to be Sylar. He's not supposed to think of himself as Sylar."

She studied her hands and carefully folded the handkerchief. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"Sylar?"

"No, this… person who thinks he's Nathan." She gave a tiny shrug. "He seemed kind of nice. Like… Nathan."

"If we can't stabilize the programming, then we'll have to end the experiment." He realized immediately he'd made a mistake in using Angela Petrelli's euphemism for it. Claire looked at him very directly and swallowed.

"You mean you'll kill him."

"It's not really Nathan, Claire."

She looked away from him and breathed out slowly. She took another deep breath. "Yeah, you're right. It's really Sylar." She started to elaborate, to justify, but she remembered her dad's habit of telling too much when he was lying. She looked at him and smiled slightly. "Thank you for trusting me, Dad."

He nodded. "It's alright, Claire. You've been doing a lot of growing up lately. This isn't the best way to get started, but you were the best qualified for what I needed."

She thought about that a moment and said, "You needed someone who knew Nathan well enough to tell if… if he was slipping."

He nodded.

"Okay. Well, I guess I need to call Nathan then, right?"

He stood up. "Yes, but first you need to go to the bathroom and clean up properly. Get some warm water to rinse your mouth out with. You don't want to sound like you've been crying. Nathan's always been unusually perceptive. I don't know if Sylar has that trait too, but you can never afford to get sloppy." He started to turn away, then turned back to her. "Oh, and it is very important, **very** important that you don't actually lie to Sylar. He can detect that. We'll work out a script with Angela. Okay?"

She nodded. "He still has all of Sylar's powers?"

Noah nodded. "Plus Nathan's flight. He can be very dangerous if things don't go right."

"Okay, Dad. I'm on it."


	11. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: I thought this was going to end up being two chapters, but it flowed better to snip out a few parts and have it as one. There will be an epilogue to tie up loose ends and explain things a bit.**

**A/N: I thought this was going to end up being two chapters, but it flowed better to snip out a few parts and have it as one. There will be an epilogue to tie up loose ends and explain things a bit.**

 **A/N #2: To heck with it. I'm going to be busy all day tomorrow, so I wouldn't be able to get it to and from beta readers anyway. So I'm going to post the last two chapters (this one and the epilogue. Enjoy!**

Claire looked at herself in the mirror, at her tear-stained face. It was hard to tell if her dad believed she would go through with helping them do this. "Reprogramming" - like he was some sort of computer they could just install with a software update whenever they liked. She hated Sylar, with a passion. But the man she'd met the day before hadn't been Sylar. He hadn't been a sick, power-tripping egomaniac who promised to stalk her for the rest of her possibly unnaturally long life. He hadn't so much as made a pass at her. Had he even touched her?

Now that she thought about it, she remembered when she reached out and touched him, but all the rest of the time he'd held himself apart from her. She didn't think their fingers even brushed when he'd given her the wine cooler. If he had all of Sylar's powers, then he could have done anything he wanted, anytime he wanted. He'd proven that when he had her in the hotel room. Thank God Nathan and Peter had showed up. She was sure Sylar would have quickly bored of taunting her and moved on to satisfying himself with her.

But her father seemed so sure… She swabbed off her face, rubbing hard. Who would know for sure? Only one name came to mind: Peter. Peter and Nathan were supposed to have met last night. She had a sudden surge of fear that maybe Sylar had killed Peter. But that was silly. Surely he'd had other opportunities. Yet there had been a distance between the two of them. She'd felt it.

She turned the water up as high as it would go and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Peter's number quickly, but was disappointed by the message that the number was temporarily out of service. _Crap! Of all the days for Peter's phone service to be out!_ She frowned at the phone. _Yes, it's awfully convenient that it would be out_ _ **today**_ _. Too convenient._ There was no reason why it would be out if Sylar had killed him last night - there just wouldn't be an answer. But if someone had cut off service… someone who had access to all Peter's personal information… and had a big reason not to want him to get any calls today… Claire knew who it was. It also proved to her that she was right and this was something Peter would want to stop if he knew about it.

Would she be able to work some sort of warning into the conversation with Nathan? Almost certainly not. From the way her dad had talked, he and Angela would be standing right there making sure she stuck to a script. She probably wouldn't be able to warn him after he arrived either, not without declaring sides and she wasn't as absolutely sure as she needed to be to do that. She had to get to Peter! He would know. She dialed information and then the hospital, leaving a message for Peter Petrelli, paramedic. She prayed he would get it in time.

Nathan arrived on time, as he usually did these days. He could still be delayed by traffic or unforeseen circumstances but he certainly didn't lose track of time anymore and once he made a commitment, he followed through, hell or high water. Claire greeted him cheerfully and hugged him.

He stiffened a little. "Claire… you don't have to do that," he said softly. He tried to disentangle himself from her gently. She looked up at him and gave him a weird, oddly desperate look.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

She hesitated and then shook her head slightly, answering in a cheery voice that didn't match her expression, but carried well, "Come on in the dining room. Your mom should have some soup out in a few minutes." She gave him another look. Her face practically screamed, "Run away!" He looked at her blankly.

"Claire?" he mouthed. He wasn't going to leave if she was in danger.

Angela came out just then with a tureen of soup. "Nathan! It's so good to see you. Please, have a seat. Claire?" She set down the tureen and gestured at Claire's designated seat. "I'll just go get some bread," Angela said.

Claire sat down, smiling for Angela's benefit. Nathan sat in his usual seat, watching Claire closely. When Angela left, they'd talk, or at least try to lip-read. The door closed behind Angela and Claire shut her eyes sadly.

 _Well, that's going to make it hard to lip-read_ , Nathan thought. There was a sharp puff of mineral-tasting air from beneath him and that was the last thing he thought coherently.

Peter threw open the door from the garden and rushed into the living room, his hair in windswept disarray. On the couch was Nathan, twitching slightly and making occasional small, strangled sounds. To Peter they sounded exactly like the noises made by those who were in pain, but unconscious. He'd heard too many of those sounds in his line of work. Noah and Matt stood nearby, interrupted in their quiet talk by Peter. Noah raised a single brow at Peter's abrupt entry. It was very indiscreet to be flying in the daytime. Claire stood further away from everyone, biting her knuckle and looking conflicted. Angela was waiting behind the couch with hands folded behind her, an unnaturally serene presence.

Peter closed the distance, looking at each person in turn.

Only Matt spoke, saying, "It's done. There's nothing you can do."

"What's done?" Peter snapped at him, kneeling next to Nathan and taking his pulse.

"Sylar's being taken apart. It's just a matter of time. It'll be over soon. Then all that will be left is Nathan." Matt smiled slightly and shrugged. "I'm pretty sure it will work right this time," he added, bouncing on his feet. He was so pleased. He'd finally gotten that sick bastard.

" **Pretty sure?** " Peter glared at him. Matt took a step back, faced with Peter's unexpected fury. Peter, leaving Nathan's side, closed on Matt. "You're _pretty sure_? Pretty sure you're going to kill part of him and it won't affect the other part? That's like saying it's okay to cut off someone's left arm because it won't affect the right!" Matt backpedaled as Peter got in his face.

Claire stepped forward and said, rather timidly, "Peter… they said this won't hurt Nathan. Only Sylar."

Peter looked back at Nathan's body as it twitched more strongly and made what was actually recognizable as a small cry. Peter shook his head. "No. It's hurting him **now**."

Noah stepped in, saying, "Peter, just step away. It might be hard to watch, but this needs to be done. Don't let your **love** blind you to _what needs to be done_."

Peter turned and stared at Noah, meeting his eyes for a long moment. Clearly, Noah knew. More softly, Peter said, "I'd rather be blinded by love than hate." He wheeled and grabbed Matt's hand. A warm, yellow light shone through his hand briefly.

"What? No!" Matt grabbed at Peter, catching his shoulder and spinning him around.

Peter recovered his balance and twisted away from Matt. He said, "You said there was nothing I could do, that it was just a matter of time. All I want to do is look for myself." He looked Matt up and down, looking like he wanted to deck him. Matt glanced at Noah, who shrugged noncommittally. Peter stepped over gingerly next to Nathan's body, looking around the room again at each person, trying to find an ally. He looked longest at Claire, his eyes silently asking her to keep him safe while he was inside Nathan's mind. She walked over next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He nodded. It would be enough. She looked across the couch at Angela, who remained impassive, as she had through the entire encounter so far.

Peter found himself in a sterile-looking corridor lined with whitewashed concrete blocks. It seemed to go on forever, but just a little distance ahead of him was a door on the left wall. From beyond the door came howls of agony. They erupted much more loudly for a moment as Nathan opened the door and came out. The sounds damped down as the door swung shut. He was dressed perfectly, hair in place and shoes polished, but his face looked strained and pale. He walked up to Peter and hugged him warmly. "Peter! Thank God. Thank you for coming. I can't talk to you though. Gabriel doesn't have much time. I need to be with him." Nathan turned and left immediately, returning to the room where the cries of human suffering trailed off abruptly to a whimper, then rose again in keening.

Peter looked up and down the corridor. It had a nightmarish quality to it somehow, like it made him dizzy just looking down it. There seemed to be nothing else to see. He followed his brother, but stopped in shock when he opened the door. Inside it was an abattoir. The floor looked like it had been covered with several gallons of blood. More of it was dripping copiously from Gabriel's wounds, which were healing very slowly, but not as fast as he was being hurt. Mixed throughout the mess on the floor were chunks of meat and tissue ranging in size from a walnut to a grapefruit. What was left of Gabriel's body laid upon a table, held down by bands of darkness. Shadows moved through the room, erratically swooping down on him and tearing at his body while he struggled and thrashed.

Nathan was standing near Gabriel's head, his hand resting flat on a spot just under Gabriel's collarbone, on his chest. That spot was unmarred and the shadows didn't strike near it. They avoided Nathan altogether, but their attention was unwavering on the dying man. Peter hurried in the room and immediately slipped in the blood, skidding and sliding to the floor. He brought his hands up in a grimace. They were covered in still-warm blood. His pants were now soaked through in the back. He got to his feet and tried to grab the bands of darkness. His hands passed right through them. He tried to fight a shade that came at him, but it too passed him by, undeterred. He fought the next three that came at the body to no effect, only barely avoiding falling in the mess again. He caught himself by grabbing the table, his hand landing inadvertently on the stump of one of Sylar's arms, sheared off at the elbow.

The touch seemed to rouse the body out of the senselessness of pain. He didn't have eyes, but he could still speak. "Peter? Peter!"

"Yes? Yes, I'm here." Peter gave up on fighting the formless shades and moved to the man's head, across the table from Nathan. Nathan had remained pristine, without a drop of blood on him. He glowed slightly from the inside, but beads of sweat stood out on his brow and dark circles were forming under his eyes. Peter put his hand over Nathan's on Gabriel's chest and was startled to see all the blood on his hand and lower arm disappear. He held up his hand in surprise. It was clean and tingled slightly.

Gabriel spoke, his voice growling and burbling from his many chest injuries, "Peter, get out of here. These are my victims. Parkman set them on me to get their pounds of flesh. Let them take me. I deserve it. Make Nathan leave. He's only delaying the it. It'll just be him, when they're done with me. You want him. Not me. You **have** to make him leave!"

Peter put out his hand again and touched Nathan's. He tried to lift Nathan's hand from Gabriel. Nathan resisted him and grimaced as if in pain. Peter didn't try again. "Nathan?" Nathan looked up at him but didn't speak. He had stress lines around his mouth and was starting to breath harder.

Peter said, "You're trying to protect him." It was almost a question.

Nathan nodded very slightly. Peter's brows pulled together and he looked down at the struggling, maimed man.

"Go! Take him out of here!" Gabriel shouted at him.

Peter ignored him. To Nathan he asked, "Do you want me… to protect him?"

Nathan nodded unevenly, blinking as sweat dribbled into his eyes. He stared down at his hand on Gabriel's chest and poured all of his concentration into it.

Peter backed away, taking care in crossing the slippery floor. Nathan was right. There wasn't much time.

Peter blinked his eyes and inhaled sharply. He looked at his hands. It seemed odd that they would both be clean of blood, rather than just one. He felt irrevocably stained just from seeing that room.

"Peter?" Claire asked.

He didn't answer her. Instead he leaped up and grabbed Matt Parkman, throttling him and dragging him next to Nathan with the strength of desperation and the advantage of surprise. He didn't bother speaking. He tilted his head and forcibly invaded Matt's mind.

Claire shot a look at her father. Noah lifted his brows and said very slowly, "I guess that means that Nathan isn't unharmed by this after all." He crossed his arms, clearly declining to stop Peter. He looked across the couch at Angela, who was looking rapidly between Peter, Nathan and Matt.

Angela looked across at Noah and hissed, "No. No! Peter can't be allowed to prevent this."

Noah shook his head. "I'm not coming between two Petrellis. Sylar's one thing. Peter's another. You know the Rules."

"Fine! Then don't." She went to one of the duffel bags across the room for a gun. Claire looked at her father, whose face was expressionless. Claire dashed to the dining room and came back with the gas canister. The neural agent would be lethal to anyone without supernatural healing, but it had a very short range and an even shorter life in air before it became inert. One puff though would kill a person within a breath. Angela looked at Claire for a moment as both women measured off their respective positions. Angela could easily shoot Peter from where she was and Claire was too far away to effectively threaten her with the gas. Angela pointed and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. "Damnit!" she swore. Claire jumped forward and put herself between Angela and Peter, turning the canister so that she could release its contents with a single motion. Angela froze and lowered the gun.

"Safety's on," Noah said dryly.

"I noticed," Angela's voice dripped with acid.

Noah sighed. "Well, it's understandable. You don't use guns very often in your line of work."

She glared at him, doing a good job of trying to kill him with her icy stare.

Matt suddenly fell to one knee as Peter released him. "Gah!" Parkman grabbed at his throat and coughed to get a breath. He looked up at Peter, who said to him, "Now run!" Matt jumped to his feet and fled the house under the influence of his own ability used against him. Peter looked at Claire holding his mother at bay. He looked behind himself at Noah, who still stood with his arms crossed, doing nothing. Peter blinked at that and knelt next to Nathan, who took a huge breath and began to cough, since he'd never had a chance to clear the nerve agent from his lungs after it had killed him. Peter took his hand and helped him up. The man he pulled into a sitting position was Sylar, not Nathan.

Angela inhaled sharply.

Peter frowned to see Sylar's face but said quietly, "Are you alright?"

Sylar coughed again. "Yeah. Nathan… he was taking it all. For me."

Peter cocked his head. "Is Nathan still in there?"

Sylar nodded. "He's too weak right now to stop me." He gave a final short cough and glared up from under his brows at Angela Petrelli, then at Noah. "This isn't going to happen again."

Peter shook his head and said firmly, "I'm strong enough to stop you. We're leaving Noah out of it. He's neutral."

"What?"

Peter looked down at Sylar and spoke as if he fully expected Sylar to follow his orders. "You leave him out of it. And you're not doing anything to my mother either. I'm not going to let you be a killer again." He reached down and put his hand solidly on Sylar's shoulder for a moment, then turned to face Angela.

Angela spoke, "This isn't over, Peter. Not until he's dead."

Peter stepped next to Claire. He looked at her and gave her a nudge out of the way. She moved. Sylar stood up. He glared at Noah, who eyed him coolly in return but did nothing.

Peter said very quietly, "I'm sorry, Mom. But it's over." He tilted his head. She closed her eyes and dropped the gun. When she opened them again, Peter was right. It was all over. It had worked. The process was a success.

"Nathan!" She smiled at Sylar and moved towards him. "Stop looking like that horrible man!"

Sylar took a step back from her. Behind her, Peter looked at Sylar and nodded. "It's okay. You're Nathan. You just have Sylar's powers. Sometimes you look like him, or even act like him. But she wants her son back. That's what you are. You're Nathan Petrelli."

Claire moved next to Peter and touched his elbow. He had just done to his mother what her father had done so many times to Sandra, using the Haitian. It was painful to see. Somehow she felt better seeing the wretched expression on Peter's face. He hadn't wanted to do it. Even now he was thinking about how much of a mistake it was, how wrong to invade someone else's mind and force them to see what you wanted them to see. Noah walked slowly over to pick up the gun. He checked the safety automatically and carried it back to the duffel. He collected the gas canister from Claire as well.

To Sylar, Angela said, "No member of my family wears that face, Nathan. Stop it now!" Her voice was still full of venom.

Peter said quietly, "Nathan, you need to change."

Sylar sat down and stared at the floor. It seemed to take him a longer time than usual to muster up the rippling flesh and changed features. Nathan looked as ragged as he had when Peter had seen him in Parkman's prison, except Nathan now also had two day's beard and his hair was a mess. Angela smiled anyway and patted him on the cheek. "There! Much better. But you need to clean yourself up." Her last pat turned out to be a light slap. "You look a fright!" Nathan shot her a murderous look at the slap. Peter stepped forward but there was no need. His mother walked off to another room without a backwards glance.

"Mister Petrelli." Noah walked over and stopped about ten feet away from where Nathan was sitting. Nathan looked up at him. "Your father and I had an arrangement."

Nathan stood up, which was a struggle, but he made it. He shook his legs a little, trying to shake away the phantom pain. He said, "I trust the arrangement still stands?"

Noah nodded. "Yes. I was after Sylar today, not you." Noah's eyes slid around the room, settling back on Nathan. "You just… accidentally got in the way."

Nathan shook his head. "No, I put myself there. A little different."

"Do you think it's likely we'll have problems with Sylar again?"

Nathan shook his head. "No. Not anymore."

Noah nodded again. "Good." He walked closer and extended his hand. Nathan took Noah's hand in his and shook it firmly. Noah added, "You know you don't have very much time."

Nathan smiled and let go. "I've got a year or two, if I'm careful. I'm sure we'll find a solution."

Noah agreed. "Well, if you ever need me, you know how to get in touch."

Nathan said, "Of course. Thank you for all your service to my family. I'll see you out."

As her two fathers walked out, Claire turned to Peter and said, "Do you know what's going on?"

"No idea," he shook his head.

"Claire?" Noah called.

"Coming," she answered, picking up a few of her things. Peter said, "I'll get the rest of your things to you later."

"Sure," she replied.

Noah and Nathan had returned from taking the duffel bags out. Now Noah held only his briefcase. "Claire, we need to let the Petrellis have some time alone." He nodded at Nathan and Peter. He and Claire left.


	12. Some Time Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: This is the epilogue. It's been a blast to write and even better to read the nice comments. Read & Review.**

**A/N: This is the epilogue. It's been a blast to write and even better to read the nice comments. Read & Review.**

After the Bennets left, Peter glanced in the direction his mother had gone. He pointed upstairs for more privacy from her. Nathan nodded and followed him quietly up the stairs.

Peter opened the door to Nathan's room because to his memory it had an extra chair in it. It still did, sitting at a battered study desk. Peter pulled it out and sat down. He covered his eyes, thinking about what he'd just done to his mother and regretting it. Nathan wandered around half the room, his fingers trailing lightly over every object. He stopped next to the bedpost and jerked his hand away with an annoyed expression. He'd seen something he didn't like. He sat down on the bed, pushing a box of old toys out of the way. Apparently their mother had been in here rearranging, some days or weeks ago.

Peter looked at Nathan. Nathan looked at him. "Thank you," Nathan said.

Peter nodded. "What are brothers for?"

"Heh," Nathan exhaled. "That went above and beyond the call of duty. You didn't have to save him."

Peter cocked his head, "Why were **you** trying to save him?"

"He'd changed. He'd really changed." Nathan looked away at his small bookshelf of old law textbooks. "Our prisons, our system of justice, morality…" His eyes fell on a crucifix on the wall. "Faith. We're supposed to have the idea that people can be rehabilitated, redeemed. I'm still a little pissed off I don't have my own body, but I have my life back and it didn't seem fair to kill him right after he'd become a good man."

Peter inhaled slowly and exhaled. "What are you going to do with the one or two years you say you have left?"

Nathan looked up at the light fixture. "Serve out my term. See how much I can get done. I was thinking I'd try to hook up with Heidi again. The boys need a father in their life. If you did what I think you did, then mom will find a solution. She's probably already got several leads."

"A solution to what?" Peter asked.

"Too many powers. They make you unstable. They eat you up. Use your powers too much and they use you up instead. Some are more high energy than others." He snapped his fingers and a tiny ball of lightning shot out into the air. "You might want to talk Claire out of being an organ donor."

"An organ donor?"

"Yeah, she was talking about it the other day. I'm not sure how this stuff works exactly, but that might not be a good idea for her."

"Huh. And what's this stuff about an arrangement between Arthur Petrelli and Noah Bennet?"

"Oh, it's bigger than that. It's the Company. They had Rules. Like loyalty and obedience for everyone but the directors. All the old agents. They had a guy with a power like Parkman's who burned the Rules into them. One of the Rules is not to interfere in the family matters of the directors."

Peter nodded slowly. "That must be why the Haitian wouldn't do it unless I agreed. He didn't want to come between mom and I."

Nathan shook his head. "Couldn't."

Peter cocked his head. "How do you know all this?"

"Dumb luck," Nathan said. At Peter's look, he explained, "A girl gave me her calling card. I was reading a book later in our library and I stuck the card in it to hold my place. I left the book there. When I came back later, it was gone. I thought someone must have reshelved it. But I couldn't remember what book it was. I didn't care about the book - I wanted to call the girl. I looked through half the books in there that looked right and couldn't find it. So I got mad and decided to be methodical and go through every single book in the library - get them down, flip through them, find it. It was the fourth book of the 1936 Encyclopedia Britannica set. It had a false cover. Inside wasn't encyclopedia entries. It was meeting notes. It didn't make much sense to me at the time, but I came back to it later about a year after I'd learned to fly."

Peter chuckled, "Did you ever get to call the girl?"

He nodded, "Oh, yeah. Mom had found the book and carried it upstairs, set it next to my bed." He gestured at the nightstand. "Thought I'd finish reading it here after dinner."

"What was in the notes?" Peter asked.

"Some of it was just income and expenses, account numbers and asset tracking. Not helpful. But here and there they'd have reports given by scientists and field agents and stuff, explaining what they'd found out about powers. People like Suresh."

"Mohinder?" Peter asked.

"Well, Chandra. They also had their Rules in there and different stuff about the company. A lot of it was in code, usually not on purpose, but they used different words. Like someone who could fly was a valkyrie."

"Valkyrie?" Peter smiled a bit. "That was the name of your plane in the Navy."

Nathan smiled back. "Yeah, I named it. Seemed to fit: 'Chooser of the Slain'."

"Wow. I wish I'd seen that book."

"It's still down there as far as I know. They're up to encyclopedia eight though. Come on, I'll show you."

"Okay."

They padded downstairs quietly and walked into the library. Nathan knew exactly which book he wanted and went straight to it. He pulled it out… and stared at it, dumbfounded.

"What is it?" Peter took the encyclopedia from him and let it fall open. It was nothing but a terribly out-of-date encyclopedia. Nathan pulled out books five, six, seven and eight to find the same thing.

"They were here! I swear it, Peter! They were here," he said.

"Hmpf." Peter dropped book four on the reading table. "I believe you. But nothing's ever that easy."


	13. Epilogue: Claire checks up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N: This was the first epilogue I wrote for the story, but on reflection I decided it didn't fill in enough holes about why things had happened. So I went back and wrote what became chapter 12 (titled in my notes: Some Time Alone). So this is it. The end. No, really. (maybe - if you want more, let me know. Otherwise I'll move on. Probably not this week. Going to be too busy with holidays.)**

**A/N: This was the first epilogue I wrote for the story, but on reflection I decided it didn't fill in enough holes about why things had happened. So I went back and wrote what became chapter 12 (titled in my notes: Some Time Alone). So this is it. The end. No, really. (maybe - if you want more, let me know. Otherwise I'll move on. Probably not this week. Going to be too busy with holidays.)**

A few weeks later, Claire dropped by unexpectedly, having slipped past the receptionist and found her way down the hall to Nathan's office. She pushed the door open slowly. He looked up from reading a bill on liquor licensing requirements. His face brightened immediately. "Claire! Come in. Have a seat." He stood up until she came in and sat down herself. He looked over and waved the door shut with telekinesis.

He sat down, looking at her face. She looked at the door silently.

"I can open it again, if you want," he said.

"No, that's okay. So how are things?" She seemed quiet and subdued.

"They're good. They're really good. I've… uh, been talking to Heidi. I think we might be able to get back together. I'm looking forward to seeing the boys."

Claire smiled. "That's good. Does she… know?"

He shook his head. "No."

"That must be lonely."

He shrugged. "It's alright. I've got a family, a place. Peter comes around a lot, but he has his own life too. I figure he'll get back to it after a while."

"Yeah," she said. "I talked to him. He seemed kind of depressed about how things worked out with you two. Or… didn't work out."

He raised his brows at her, but said nothing. She said, "I think I've managed to crack some of my dad's codes in the files. I've been reading up on the Petrelli family."

"Oh," he gave her a carefully blank look.

"It's okay. Everything's confidential."

"Alright." Nathan shrugged. "Well, with Peter… not everything is meant to be. I'm not the same person I was… then. I tried. Really hard, for Peter's sake, for Nathan's. Ultimately not me. We're still brothers, though."

"Yeah…." She smiled. "I guess that also means I'm still your daughter."

He blinked. "If you want to be. I'd be honored." He dipped his head to her.

She shut her eyes and shook her head. "This has got to be the biggest… change… I've ever heard about. My dad used to always say a leopard wouldn't change its spots. But you're not a leopard anymore. You're a lion."

He laughed a little. "That's a nice way to put it. Too nice. How about we just say I'm a totally different animal than I used to be? I think the world's better off with one less predator in it."

She stood up. "Okay, well, I just wanted to come by and say hello, check up on you."

He smiled up at her. "I'd be offended, if a Bennet didn't think I was worth checking up on. Have a wonderful day, Claire. You've made mine brighter." He watched her go and softly close the door behind herself. He went back to reading the bill, smiling to himself.


End file.
